


Broken Wings

by Rachel500



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 107,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel500/pseuds/Rachel500
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cameron Mitchell invites John Sheppard on a cross-country flight, the two men battle personal demons as enemies close in, and even the combined efforts of both their teams may not be enough to save them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Stargate SG1 and Stargate Atlantis are somebody else's, probably MGM's, and I freely admit that I'm borrowing their shows and they retain all rights, etc.
> 
> This is primarily a Sheppard & Mitchell friendship fic with a hefty dose of team. Multiple background pairings including Sam/Jack, Daniel/Vala (implied), Teal'c/Ishta, Rodney/Jennifer, Teyla/Kanaan, Ronon/Amelia and past Cam/Amy. Complete but will posted daily in chapters as this is a novel length story. Set immediately post SGA S5. Spoilers for all of SG1/SGA abound and minor spoilers for SGU S1.

**Broken Wings**

 **Part 1: Pre-flight**

The bar was packed with SGC personnel all lined up to wish Colonel Mitchell well before he headed to Kansas for his wedding to a woman whose name John Sheppard didn't know. When it came down to it, he didn't know Mitchell all that well either. In fact, John wasn't entirely certain what he was doing there.

Atlantis had been parked on Earth for all of five days. For the latter three John, along with the rest of the Atlantis command staff, had been buried in meetings at the SGC, making a case for her return to Pegasus. General O'Neill had already made the decision that they needed Atlantis on Earth, in his words, 'like a hole in the head' but he was letting the IOA meetings go ahead to give them the illusion that they'd had some say in the matter. John understood the political need even if he thought the whole thing was a giant waste of time like Rodney had taken to saying pointedly at the beginning of every meeting.

After, shaking Mitchell's hand, wishing him luck and spending the requisite amount of time sitting with a group of Air Force officers to appear sociable, John chose a seat at the bar to watch the game on the muted TV. He sat back and nursed his beer. He tended to believe his team had only been invited because they were there and Mitchell, SG1 leader and all-round American hero, was the type who believed that it was the neighbourly thing to invite complete strangers to dinner and make them feel welcome.

And it wasn't as though Mitchell and John were _complete_ strangers since John had shown Mitchell around Atlantis during SG1's infamous visit. Mostly, John had come away with the impression that Mitchell was an OK guy. The next time they'd ran into each other was during the period when the Atlantis expedition had been kicked back to Earth after rescuing some Ancients who had reclaimed the city. Again, between SG1's schedule and Sheppard's own, they hadn't met up much beyond the occasional 'hey' exchanged in the locker room. But there'd been one night a few weeks in when they'd both been Earth-side and Mitchell had invited him out with a couple of the other team leaders. They'd spent most of the night comparing the aircraft they'd flown focusing on life before any of them knew about aliens. The final time had been fleeting. John had been on his way through the SGC on his way to his father's funeral and Mitchell had stepped into the same elevator and offered his condolences. John had no idea what he'd said back.

Each meeting had solidified John's impression of Mitchell as a good guy; a good officer; someone he wouldn't mind taking orders since Mitchell's promotion to full bird separated them by a rank. When he thought of Mitchell, he thought rock-solid, dependable. Not boring because John was certain that the sum of SG1 leader _plus_ F302 pilot didn't equal boring, but Mitchell was normal in a way that was oddly reassuring when every other person at the SGC was shaded a touch crazy, and John included himself in that. Mitchell was grounded like Teyla.

John missed Teyla. She had participated in the first meeting and then requested to go back to Atlantis to be with Torren and Kanaan. Ronon was at the SGC but had been sparring with Teal'c more than taking part in meetings. John looked for Ronon and Teal'c in the bar and spotted them exactly where he'd left them; at a table drinking outrageously pink cocktails with Vala. A smile quirked John's lips upward for a moment. Only Ronon and Teal'c could get away with drinking pink cocktails and looking macho doing it. He lifted his beer to his lips and took another small sip, searching for his remaining team-mate.

Rodney was sequestered in a corner with a group of scientists including Samantha Carter. They all seemed to be arguing over some random scientific thing in between drinking a copious amount of alcohol. John was surprised nobody had taken an eye out with the number of hands that were flying.

John didn't feel the urge to join either of them. Someone had to be the sensible one and get Ronon and Rodney home by curfew, he reasoned. He was not completely ignored. At some point the bartender took pity on him and put out some snacks; people trundled over to buy more beer and asked the score or updated him on the latest gossip. In the meantime, he enjoyed watching Rodney browbeat his fellow scientists and Ronon drink down more pink cocktails than John thought was a good idea for the interior of the car he'd borrowed. He was also aware that he'd started watching Mitchell.

Mitchell was laughing just a touch too loud, trying to look happy just a touch too much, drinking a little bit more than he should, and radiating tension from every pore. John would have been concerned if it had been any of his business.

Eventually, Sam slid onto the stool next to him. She looked strange in civvies; jeans and a t-shirt that seemed chosen for comfort rather than for fashion. 'John.'

'Sam.' John raised his beer – it was almost empty but not quite.

'I need to ask a favour.' Sam said, getting straight to the point.

'Sure.' John replied agreeably.

'I need you to take Cam home.'

John lowered the bottle back to the bar. That probably hadn't meant what it sounded like, John thought, amused at where his mind had gone. 'Excuse me?'

Sam waved a hand toward Daniel Jackson, sprawled in a chair opposite Mitchell. 'He was supposed to be designated driver.'

'Ah.' John saw the problem. There was a line of shot glasses in front of Jackson and John vaguely remembered someone telling him about a drinking game.

'I've ordered some transports from the base.' Sam explained. 'So we can get everyone else back there but...' she motioned with her head at Mitchell. 'He needs to go home; he has a flight in the morning.'

'Wouldn't it make more sense for _you_ to take him and for me to wrangle this crowd?' John pointed out. He figured Mitchell would appreciate Sam's company more than his. As far as he could work out members of SG1 were members for life regardless of other assignments.

Sam looked at him impatiently. 'I go home with Cam and there'll be gossip.' She said. 'You go home with him and it's a buddy doing another buddy a favour.'

She was right. 'Fine.' John agreed, draining his beer. 'But you make sure my team...'

'Gets home safely.' Sam finished with a grin. 'Yes, Dad.'

'Mom.' John shot back at her.

Sam made an expansive gesture that took in the whole room. 'Then, don't we have beautiful children?' She smirked.

'OK, I'm officially creeped out.' John informed her, but he was smiling. He slid off the bar stool and headed for Mitchell. He clamped a hand on Mitchell's shoulder, grinned at the rest of the group and jerked a thumb back at Sam. 'I've been given orders to get you home, Colonel.'

There was a collective groan from the table.

'Seriously?' Mitchell squinted at Sam who waved back at him. 'It's early.' And when John checked the time, it was earlier than he'd thought. 'I'm sure you could ignore those orders, Sheppard.' But he was already putting his beer down.

'Yeah, I don't think either one of us wants her mad at us.' John drawled, eliciting a laugh from everyone. 'Come on.' He snagged Mitchell's bomber jacket with one hand, and steered Mitchell towards the exit with the other.

A blast of cold rain hit them as soon as they stepped outside of the bar. John dragged in a lungful of air, pleased with the freshness after the stale smell of beer and sweat. Mitchell stumbled as he shrugged into his jacket and John quickly pointed him in the direction of the car. He bundled Mitchell into the passenger seat and gunned the engine.

He glanced over at Mitchell who stared at the empty road ahead of them with something of a grimace. 'Uh, you want to give me directions or an address, Colonel?'

'Cam.' Mitchell replied.

John looked at him quizzically.

'You're hauling my drunken ass home, Sheppard.' Mitchell pointed out. 'I think we could lose the ranks.'

'Sure.' John agreed, pleased to drop the formality. He had never been good at the shift when a rank changed and someone he considered a peer moved up leaving him behind. When Sam had been in charge of Atlantis he'd considered himself lucky that she hadn't cared for the formalities.

'Besides, it's not like you're not going to catch me up again soon anyway.' Mitchell commented dryly.

'I am?'

'You saved Earth.' Mitchell pointed out. 'Promotions come with the territory.'

John shrugged. It had been a surprise to make Lieutenant Colonel; he really didn't expect to make Colonel especially as he was still below zone. 'Address?'

'Do you...would you...' Mitchell squirmed in the passenger seat and crossed his arms over his chest belligerently. 'Can you just drive for a while?'

John took a good look at him. Serious misery was written all over Mitchell's face; a pained glazed look in his shadowed eyes. Something wasn't right. John hesitated, wondering whether he should call Sam but he finally put the car in gear, pulled into the traffic and began driving.

After a while his destination started to become obvious and John stopped for gas, picking up water and a chocolate bar when he paid for it. Mitchell was asleep in the passenger seat, dozing off the worst of the alcohol buzz.

Eventually, John brought the car to a halt. John shoved Mitchell's shoulder to wake him up and got out of the car. He climbed up on the hood and stared up at the night sky, enjoying the heavy smell of wet grass and aviation fuel.

Mitchell followed him, clambering on the hood beside him. He accepted the bottle of water John offered him, unscrewed the cap and downed half the bottle, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. 'The airport?'

John nodded. They were in a field just outside the municipal airport to be exact. For a long while they watched, both enthralled. It was like a bubble enclosed them; the dark, the stars and wispy clouds above. The planes took flight in seemingly random intervals; the comforting roar of engines filling the darkness when they did.

They'd been sat out an hour; cold seeping into their jeans, past the leather jackets and through the thin cotton t-shirts, when Mitchell breathed in deeply and nodded. His shoulders had dropped and the lines in his face had relaxed. 'I needed this.'

John dug into the bag and brought out the chocolate. Mitchell accepted a chunk, popped it in his mouth and licked his thumb. He washed it down with more water.

'You ever been married?' Mitchell asked with studied indifference.

John tensed. He didn't want to be the guy who Mitchell confided in. He wasn't comfortable being the guy anyone confided in. 'Look, uh, I'm seriously not good at this...' he gestured obliquely with his water bottle, 'stuff.'

Mitchell looked at him.

John sighed heavily and capitulated. 'Once.'

'Do you mind if I ask...' Mitchell began; polite now John had given in.

'She wanted a husband and I failed at being one.' John answered honestly. He placed the water by his feet.

Mitchell nodded solemnly. 'Sorry.'

John lifted a shoulder and looked out toward the airport and the chain link fencing separating them from the planes. 'It was a long time ago.' Nancy had always been honest and he'd thought that he could be what she needed. He'd been wrong. 'Mostly, I couldn't clip my wings.'

There was a long silence.

Mitchell drank down the rest of the bottle of water and dropped it by his feet, following John's example. They were both resting against the windshield, legs stretched out along the hood. It was damn uncomfortable but neither of them moved.

'Amy's wonderful.' Mitchell began, staring at the ceiling of stars above them. 'We met in high school.'

'Sweethearts?' John asked because Mitchell seemed the type to get the American dream.

'God, no.' Mitchell laughed out loud. 'I couldn't get the courage up to ask her out back then.' He shifted position on the car. 'I was kinda goofy.'

John hid his surprise; he'd imagined star quarterback and Homecoming King, the complete opposite of John's experience which could only be described as geeky; chess club, math tournaments, horses and planes. He'd been ahead of his peers and if it hadn't been for the track team, he might never have had any kind of cool status. Even so, it had been a shock his senior year when girls had started paying him attention.

Mitchell sighed. 'Anyway, we reconnected at my high school reunion. It got crashed by an Alliance thug so she knows some of what we do.'

John tracked the constellations absently. The sky seemed empty with only one moon.

'Then, uh, after the Ori thing, I spent over a month convalescing at my parents' place.'

John vaguely remembered the reports. Mitchell had beaten up by some kind of Terminator Replicator monster. John also remembered that Rodney had talked a lot about why the Replicators would want to create a human hybrid and what that might mean for their own Pegasus Replicator versions since they hadn't defeated them at the time.

'Amy was visiting and we fell back into dating.'

'That can happen.' John agreed. He and Nancy had been like that; sliding from friends into dating into marriage. He wondered absently if his wedding photos showed him looking as stunned as he'd felt.

'And I...' Mitchell sketched a shape in the air, 'let it happen.' He paused. 'Just seemed time you know? Sam has what she has with O'Neill, I thought Daniel and Vala would get their acts together with her ex being out of the picture, and Teal'c's as good as married to his Jaffa girlfriend.'

John knew how lonely it could be surrounded by couples. He'd spent weeks avoiding conversations with Rodney on his future with Keller, Ronon on whatever he'd got going with Amelia, and Teyla on Kanaan. He could imagine meeting someone, having that hollowed out feeling of _alone_ go away. If he was honest, that want for _something_ to fill the void every so often was mostly the reason he thought fondly of Larrin, a woman who had done nothing but beat him up and shoot him down every time they'd met.

'She proposed.' Mitchell announced brusquely. 'And what the hell am I supposed to say?' He lurched up into a sitting position.

John was half a heartbeat behind him but he stopped unsure what to do. He wished Teyla was there. He wished Sam was there. Hell, he wished anyone was there but him.

Mitchell was huddled over, knees drawn up, head bent. 'Crap.'

John lifted his hand to place it on Mitchell's shoulder, stopped, started again, and finally committed to it. He squeezed gently. 'Cold feet, huh?'

'More like cold everything.' Mitchell huffed out. He wasn't looking at John but he leaned into the touch. 'Sorry.'

John just squeezed his shoulder again.

'What the hell's the matter with me?' Mitchell muttered. 'I said yes.'

'Did you want to say yes?' John asked bluntly.

'Amy's wonderful.' Mitchell repeated as though that was an answer.

John patted Mitchell's shoulder and dropped his hand because he wasn't going to press him. They were barely colleagues never mind friends; Mitchell had seniority on him. If he wanted to continue talking, it was up to him. John wasn't all that bothered.

Well, OK, maybe John was somewhat bothered. He liked the guy and it was obvious Mitchell had been carrying the doubts about his impending marriage around for a while; heading for the ground and needing to pull up before he crashed and burned.

'I didn't want to hurt her by saying no.' Mitchell confessed.

Mitchell didn't say why he would hurt her beyond the obvious rejection but John could work that out for himself: Amy didn't know Mitchell hadn't been serious about her, had been using her to alleviate the loneliness he'd felt. She'd proposed thinking they were on the same page; headed for the white picket fence and the two point five children; the happy ever after. John wondered if Mitchell had even realised what he'd been doing before Amy's proposal of marriage. Probably not; Mitchell was too nice a guy to have used someone he liked deliberately.

'I thought I could make it work.' Mitchell murmured as if he'd read John's mind. 'I'm not getting any younger, we'd been dating for a year, and Amy is...'

'Wonderful?' John suggested dryly.

'But, the closer it gets...' Mitchell grimaced and looked up at the sky, 'I guess I don't want to clip my wings either.'

And yeah; there it was. It might be a metaphor but flying was freedom, nothing but sky and wind and defying gravity.

Mitchell blew out a long breath; all the tension flooding out of him as though it had been a long time bottled up. 'Thing is, I already know what I have to do.'

John bumped Mitchell's knee with his own. It was better they broke up before the wedding than afterward. He hunted around and handed Mitchell another bottle of water. 'Sorry it isn't beer.'

Mitchell snorted. He nudged John's shoulder with his own. 'Sorry to dump on you, Sheppard.' He shook his head. 'I can't...I haven't been able to talk to...anyway, sorry.'

'Not a problem.' John answered untruthfully.

Mitchell laughed. 'Sure.' Enough understanding and gratitude laced his tone that John knew Mitchell knew exactly how uncomfortable John had found the last twenty minutes, and that Mitchell was thankful all the same that John had stuck it out.

'So maybe I'm thinking Sam owes me something big and shiny for asking me to give you a ride.' John admitted.

'She's been trying to get me to talk for weeks.' Mitchell murmured contemplatively. His eyes narrowed on John.

'Don't look at me.' John held both his hands up at Mitchell's accusing look. If Sam had set their discussion up he'd had no part in it. 'I'm an innocent bystander here.'

That got another snort of laughter. 'I doubt you're an innocent anything, Sheppard.'

They were sitting close enough that John could see the crinkling lines at the edges of Mitchell's eyes, the warm easy affection that heated Mitchell's blue gaze. A whine of turbines above them had both their heads turning skyward.

Mitchell clapped a hand over John's shoulder. 'How about we take a couple of 302s for a ride around the planet when I get back?'

'I could go for that.' John said.

'Well, I know I'm going to need a ride after...' Mitchell's face scrunched up as the reality of what he was going to do hit. 'This is _not_ going to be a fun week.'

John pressed his lips together and made the offer he knew Mitchell would make in his place. 'You need a wingman?' Besides, the thought of going with Mitchell into the wilds of Kansas to support him while he broke a woman's heart was marginally more attractive than spending time in more interminable IOA meetings.

'That would be above and beyond. No, I think it needs to be a solo.' Mitchell replied. ''sides, once my folks get over the disappointment, they'll back me.'

John felt a fierce tug of jealousy at Mitchell's certainty; the simple knowledge that family would be there as a soft place to land and not like hard and unforgiving concrete. He cast one last look at the sky. 'We should go.'

They slid off the hood, picked up their trash and climbed in the car.

Mitchell rattled the address off as soon as John was belted in. He programmed the GPS and set off. Ten minutes in, Mitchell's head was slumped on the glass of the passenger window; he was fast asleep and drooling. John focused on the road.

They were entering a quiet suburb when his cell beeped. John fumbled, unused to carrying one, and answered. 'Sheppard.'

'Where are you?' Sam asked with enough impatience that it made him think she had been waiting for him to call her.

'He wanted to go for a drive.' John reported crisply.

Sam sighed audibly. 'Did he talk to you?'

'I'm sure he'll tell you tomorrow.' John retorted, feeling too manipulated and resenting the position she'd put him in.

'There's not going to be a wedding, is there?' Sam asked gently.

And John could hear the ache in her voice for what Mitchell was going through.

'Probably not.' John conceded, because when all was said and done he understood the friendship that had motivated her actions. He hoped Rodney, or more likely Teyla, would do the same for him if he was ever in Mitchell's shoes.

'Thanks, John.' Sam said.

'You owe me something big and shiny.' John shot back.

'I'll think of something.' Sam promised and disconnected before he could start making requests like no more IOA meetings _ever_ , and maybe his very own F302 thrown in for good measure.

He pulled up in front of Mitchell's house and woke Mitchell apologetically. 'You need any help from here?'

Mitchell yawned, stretched and shook his head. 'You can crash if you want?'

John declined politely. He stayed until Mitchell was safely behind the front door before he pointed the car in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

It was late when John made it into the base. He checked on Rodney and found him clothed and sprawled over a bed snoring away happily; checked on Ronon who was out cold in another room.

John headed to his own quarters. He peeled off his clothes and climbed into bed, belatedly remembering to set the alarm. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and he dreamed of flying in a F302 and breaking Nancy's heart in a field of corn.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days had passed since Cam had told Amy that he couldn't marry her.

Somewhere around oh-five-hundred, Cam gave up on sleeping. He lay awake on the sofa in his parents' den and stared up at the ceiling, tracing familiar cracks and paint smears as he listened with equal familiarity to Teal'c's quiet snores and Daniel's breathing.

His team had turned up within twenty-four hours of him calling to tell them the news. His parents, upset and confused by Cam's decision, had welcomed them. Cam was appreciative; he was. He was also...he didn't know what; embarrassed because he'd screwed up? Wanting to lick his wounds in private? He wasn't sure. It was the same hesitancy that had kept him from confiding his escalating panic about the wedding to them.

He was closer to SG1 than to any other team he'd ever served on. As much as he loved her, he knew it was only when Sam had gone to Atlantis that SG1 felt like it became _his_. Daniel, Teal'c and Vala had been to his parents' house for Thanksgiving. He'd seen them all naked and vulnerable; they'd seen him the same way. In the field, they'd worked out a rhythm. Cam knew the minute differences in expression that Teal'c employed; he could tell when Daniel's softly worded curse (usually in another language) meant they were in trouble; he knew Vala's actual innocent look and the one that she employed when she was as guilty as hell.

He knew his team.

He loved his team.

He really wished they'd leave so he could go back to pretending that he was fine again.

Because that was what he'd been doing with them for months; pretending he was fine, that he was happy. He didn't know why. A mixture of not wanting to admit the truth to himself never mind them, and maybe some deeply ingrained bravado that as leader he had to put on a brave front and be confident even when he wasn't ( _when he wanted Sam back in the field with them so he could slide a look her way and know she would be there to help him_ ).

Cam tucked his hands behind his head and stared at a patch of pale green an inch from the edge of the wall. He remembered slipping with the paintbrush and his father laughing and promising they'd paint over it. They never had.

Some mistakes couldn't be covered over so easily.

Guilt flooded him and Cam closed his eyes at the sting of tears; the ache in his chest as he clamped down on the rising emotion that wanted to break free. Amy had been calm when he'd told her; asked if it wasn't a case of last minute jitters. When he'd said no; she hadn't cried or begged. She'd accepted his apology with grace and composure. She hadn't let him handle any of the details of cancelling their wedding beyond informing his own relatives and friends, but she had eventually accepted the cheque he'd written to cover the costs. It was the least he owed her.

He rubbed his eyes.

Cam loved Amy but it wasn't enough. He could list all the reasons why he should marry her until he turned blue in the face but the only reason why he shouldn't trumped all those: he didn't want to marry Amy.

' _I couldn't clip my wings.'_

Sheppard's words echoed in his head. He had felt them resonate in his bones the minute Sheppard had said them, because Cam couldn't clip his wings either - not for Amy. Not that she had asked him to but that was how he'd _felt_. Trapped. Grounded. Maybe if he'd been more honest with her from the start...maybe if he'd been more honest with himself.

Cam sighed silently. He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The room was closing in on him. He pushed the blanket away and slid off the cushions. He was already dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt in deference to sleeping with two other men in the same room. He padded out and closed the door behind him before he headed into the kitchen. He pushed his feet into the worn sneakers by the back door. He was out and into the night air without thinking about it. He stretched, ignoring the multitude of aches in his legs and back, and started running.

He ended up in a neighbour's field, lying flat on his back and gasping for breath. He had a whole sky above him and he still felt trapped. He wanted to be in the cockpit of something fast, something he could feel when he pulled g-forces; maybe a F16. He wanted to feel the metal shudder around him. He wanted to feel the hitch in his breath when the stick responded to his smallest nudge. He wanted to feel the connection between him and his bird when he went into a spiral, into a dive, into a climb. He wanted to hide above the clouds not below them.

Cam cried. He let the tears come, sobs that felt wrenched from his gut and left him wrung out. He didn't know if he was crying for screwing up, for the loss of what he'd had with Amy, for Amy. He felt better when it was over. He stayed until the sun started to seep gold into the purple sky.

He ran home. He showered, dressed and made coffee. He took a mug and went to sit on the fence that ran along the drive to the farm. He was close enough to the house that they'd all find him easily enough; far enough away to make it an effort for anyone to come and talk to him.

He didn't want talk.

Although, mused Cam, he'd talked to Sheppard. Cam felt a momentary tug of shame at how he'd unloaded on the guy despite the look of 'don't do this to me' when Cam had asked whether Sheppard had ever been married. Heck, they didn't even know each other all that well, although maybe, in retrospect, that had helped Cam to talk along with a fair amount of alcohol and the soothing sound of the planes they'd watched. He smiled. He should have known another pilot would know what he'd needed.

 _Another pilot._

Cam shook his head. He guessed that Sheppard thought of himself as a pilot first just like he did. Cam had been sorry to miss the 302 defence of Earth from the Hive ship because of a mission on the Odyssey. He went up monthly to keep up his certification. He looked up at the sky. He could admit that he was looking forward to the promised 302 flight with Sheppard, looking forward to spending time with someone who understood what it meant to be a pilot like in the old days with Bryce...

Cam looked down at his coffee.

Damn.

Maybe that was why he'd unloaded on Sheppard. The guy reminded him of Bryce Ferguson in some ways and Cam missed Bryce. He missed his buddy. The guy who'd been with Cam every step of the way through the Academy and deployments until the Stargate programme came calling with the 302s.

Sheppard wasn't Bryce but he was a pilot. Not many of the SG team leads were for all they were mostly Air Force. Even Teal'c who could fly the 302s, gliders and Goa'uld ships didn't _identify_ as a pilot. Cam didn't think Teal'c had spent his childhood dreaming of the sky and flying across the blue endless vista, but he would bet his entire savings account that Sheppard had spent his entire childhood doing just that. Just like every other pilot Cam had trained with.

He heard footsteps headed in his direction.

Cam threw a look toward the house and found Daniel walking toward him, a green nylon windbreaker over his jeans and the usual checked shirt. Cam's fingers tightened around the mug. He remained where he was, perched on top of the wooden fence, looking out into the empty field. Daniel was the one they sent when they wanted to persuade and negotiate. If they'd felt he needed a thwap up the side of his head, it would have been Teal'c; if it was distraction and comfort, it would have been Vala. He took a deep breath and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

Daniel's cheeks were ruddy from the walk. He settled beside Cam, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his windbreaker, and leaned back on the fence, looking in the opposite direction from Cam.

'I get the impression we're not helping by being here.' Daniel commented dryly. It was direct and to the point.

Cam sighed and opted for diplomacy. 'You're not _not_ helping.'

'Hmmm.' Daniel shifted his weight and looked at Cam with amusement. 'As a linguist I feel I should tell you that not _not_ helping isn't the same as helping.'

Cam smiled at that but kept his eyes on his mug. 'You guys have been great coming out here...'

'But you'd like us to leave.' Daniel finished. He wasn't bitter or hurt; there was acceptance colouring his tone which helped Cam feel better about it.

'Yeah.' Cam murmured. He wiped a hand on his jeans and finally met Jackson's compassionate eyes.

Daniel held the gaze for a moment before he turned away and changed position; resting back against the fence more fully, crossing his arms over his torso. 'You know Sam didn't talk to us about Pete either.'

The reference made Cam flinch. He tried for levity. 'Well, I'm not in love with Jack O'Neill.'

Daniel snickered.

'We don't tell each other everything, Jackson.' Cam pointed out, hoping he would buy that argument.

'We don't,' Jackson admitted.

For a wishful moment, Cam thought he was conceding.

'But,' Daniel continued relentlessly, 'there was a reason why Sam didn't talk to us.'

Cam didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to talk to them about it, he only knew he didn't.

Daniel sighed. 'You'll be OK?'

'Yeah, I'll be OK.' Cam promised without having a clue how he made himself OK again.

Daniel pushed off the fence and took a step back towards the house. 'By the way, I talked to Sam.'

Cam sent him a quizzical look.

'Apparently they surprised Sheppard with his promotion along with orders to take leave yesterday.' Daniel said.

'Jackson.' Cam said irritated. It was bad enough Sam had set the poor guy up on the bucks' night as Cam's confessor. But a part of him was remembering Sheppard's offer to be his wingman; a part of him that desperately wanted to take Sheppard up on it.

Daniel waved away his ire. 'The guy almost blew himself up with a nuclear bomb to save Earth. You ever think she hoped for him to talk to you as well as the other way round?' He spun on his heel and headed back to the house before Cam could answer.

The goodbyes took place an hour or so later. Vala's hug was fierce and intense; Daniel's one of brotherly exasperation. When Teal'c hugged him, Cam had to fight the urge to burst into tears again.

He spent the rest of the day helping around the farm, doing chores that reminded him of his childhood. He cleaned out the den and the spare room for his Mom; did laundry. Anything and everything to keep his mind and hands occupied. His parents didn't crowd him; didn't ask questions that he didn't want to answer. But his Mom made his favourite pie for dessert and set it down in front of him with a hopeful smile. He managed a slice, swallowing past a too tight throat. They watched television and talked of inconsequential things.

Cam went to bed early. He slid between the cool clean sheets, grateful to have a bed again after staying on the sofa, and stared up at another ceiling. He tossed and turned. It wasn't long before he realised that he couldn't sleep despite the lethargy in his bones. He sighed and went downstairs for some water, feeling all too much like a teenager and not the man he had become.

He was sneaking back past the door to his parents' room when he heard a soft sob. He paused and listened. His Mom was crying and his Dad was comforting her, reassuring her in a low voice that Cam would be fine; that he knew what he was doing not marrying Amy; that whatever was going on with their son, he was their son.

Cam went back to bed, drowning in guilt; he'd made his Mom cry. He sat on the edge of the bed. He considered the farm as his home regardless that he owned a house back in Colorado. He had over two weeks of leave left but he knew he couldn't spend it at the farm with his parents or he would go insane. He couldn't bear the hurt he'd caused them. But he didn't want to go back to the SGC and the inevitable gossip about why he hadn't gotten married, the pitying looks and the expectations of his team either. He wasn't ready.

The solution that flickered in his head was nebulous at best but he was reaching for his cell before he could think twice about it. He got the SGC switchboard and ordered them to put him through to Sheppard's cell.

'Sheppard.'

'Hey, Sheppard; Cam Mitchell.' Cam replied. 'I hear congratulations are in order. Told you you'd catch me up soon enough.'

'Thanks.' Sheppard answered. 'And to think there were people who thought I'd never make it past Captain.'

Cam laughed at that. 'Listen, you know that 302 ride I mentioned?'

'I may have thought about it once or twice.' Sheppard said.

'I was thinking of swapping it for a more low tech option; man against machine.' Cam said. He hurried into the next part. 'I have a couple of weeks of leave and I was thinking of a cross-country flight in a small plane.' He paused and plunged on. 'I, uh, I could do with a wingman.'

'Cross-country?' Sheppard sounded curious but nothing more.

'San Francisco to Washington.' Cam said. 'Stop off at some of the cities in between. Kind of like a road trip but by air.' He scratched his bicep. 'What do you think?'

'I have some leave.' Sheppard said as though that answered the question. 'I could probably get us a plane if you don't mind going Virginia to Frisco?'

'I can be flexible.' Cam agreed immediately.

'OK.' Sheppard said. 'I'll need to make some calls to the East coast so I'll contact you tomorrow morning with the details?'

'OK.' Cam parroted back faintly.

They exchanged phone numbers and, before Cam knew it, the call had ended with Sheppard's easy 'talk to you tomorrow' ringing in his ears. Cam threw his cell on the bedside table and climbed back under the sheets. He fell asleep thinking about flight plans.

It was the phone that woke him the next morning, buzzing relentlessly on the wood until he had to poke his head out of the blankets and pick it up.

'Mitchell.'

'Hey, my brother Dave's going to organise the plane.' Sheppard informed him. 'Can you meet me this afternoon in Virginia? We'll spend the night with him and head out tomorrow?'

Cam squinted at the alarm clock. 'You're a morning person aren't you?'

'Is that a yes?' Sheppard asked with a laugh.

'It's a yes.' Cam wiped a hand over his face and tried to wake up. 'I'll get a flight into Richmond.'

'Send me the details when you've got it organised and I'll meet you there.' Sheppard promised. 'See you later.'

Cam snapped the phone shut and collapsed back with a groan. He was awake; he figured he might as well get up. He mentally organised his day as he showered and dressed, and he made calls as he waited for the first pot of coffee. He booked onto a flight out to Richmond from Kansas City.

His Mom kissed him absently on the cheek as she entered the kitchen to make breakfast. 'You're up early.'

His Dad was only a step behind her and patted Cam on the shoulder. Cam poured them both coffee and sat at the table as his Mom made pancakes. He waited until they were eating before he sprang his plans to escape on them. He would be leaving as soon as they were done with breakfast. His parents exchanged a worried look.

'Are you sure this is a good idea, son?' His Dad asked forthrightly.

'It seems so...sudden.' His Mom added.

Cam took hold of her hand and attempted a smile. 'Look, I screwed up with Amy.' He saw the conclusion his Mom jumped to as hope entered her eyes. 'Not in calling off the wedding,' he said quickly, 'just allowing it to get as far as it did before I stopped it. And I know I hurt her and you guys for which I am very sorry.'

She squeezed his hand. 'You don't have to apologise to us.'

'I do.' Cam said gruffly. He took a breath and steadied himself. 'Now I know I could stay here with you guys to...to lick my wounds and that would be great,' he lied through his teeth, 'but Amy and I spent a lot of time here.'

They had, and it seemed he'd found the excuse he needed to make it OK for his Mom if the sudden understanding in her face was anything to go by.

'I think getting away from everything and getting my head straight is exactly what I need.' Cam continued. He could almost taste the sky; flying was calling to him like a siren.

'Well, if you're sure...' His Mom patted his hand and turned her attention to her breakfast.

His Dad frowned. 'And this Sheppard is a friend of yours?'

Cam nodded.

'I don't think I've heard you mention him before.' His Dad said pointedly.

'We work in different parts of the same programme. He's...rarely stateside.' Cam replied. 'He's a good pilot, Dad. I'll be safe with him.'

His Dad looked at him and Cam knew he was weighing everything; what Cam had said and done for the past four days against what his Dad thought he needed. He nodded slowly. 'I'll ride with you to the airport.'

'Thanks.' Cam said, gratefully.

He packed and said goodbye to his Mom. She hugged him goodbye, kissed his cheek and told him to call. She stood in the yard and watched them until they were out of sight.

Cam drove to the airport. The car had been altered for his Dad's disability; it was completely automatic, levers and brakes on the steering wheel. But Cam had driven it before and it was easier than a F302. He let the music stay on a country station his Dad preferred and concentrated on the road in between thinking about Sheppard's text confirming he'd meet him at Richmond and the post-script; _your team know._

They were early at the airport, way too early, and his Dad insisted on seeing him inside. They grabbed a coffee while they waited for the check-in desk to open. Cam predicted his Dad would say something and wasn't surprised when he settled back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and regarded Cam with concern.

'So a cross-country trip by plane.' His Dad tapped his cup thoughtfully. 'What gave you the idea?'

Cam shrugged. 'I was thinking road trip and then I thought why not in the air.'

'I envy you.' His Dad admitted with a wry smile that fell away almost immediately. 'But I'm concerned that...'

'I'm running away from my problems?' Cam finished for him. He sighed. 'Maybe I am. Is that so bad?'

'Is it?' His Dad pressed. 'Because this isn't like you.'

Cam stiffened. 'I know I've disappointed you and Mom, and I'm sorry about that.'

His Dad sighed heavily. 'We're disappointed _for_ you, Cameron, not _in_ you. There's a world of difference.' He held up a hand as Cam started to argue. 'We're disappointed that Amy wasn't the one for you; that you don't get to experience the type of marriage and love your Mom and I have; that you won't have a family of your own to love and bring up in the near future when we know what a great Dad you'd make.'

Cam couldn't say anything; his throat was too tight.

'But we're proud of you for making the decision to cancel the wedding.' His Dad insisted. 'We know it wasn't an easy thing to do.'

'I should have done it sooner. I screwed up.' Cam said tiredly.

'And it probably won't be the last time you do.' His Dad looked at him kindly. He fidgeted with his cup for a long moment. 'I screwed up too.' He confessed. 'I knew you weren't happy when we had the engagement party but I told myself I shouldn't say anything.'

Cam was startled. He'd thought he'd fooled everyone.

'Which is why I'm saying something now.' His Dad continued. 'You're not happy, son, and I can't help think that Amy's only part of it.'

'Maybe.' Cam allowed, shaking off his initial shock to formulate something of an answer. 'I don't know but maybe this trip will help.' He raised his own mug. 'I miss flying.'

His Dad nodded understandingly. 'Me too.' He sat back. 'So, this Sheppard is a pilot?'

Cam nodded. 'He's good. Better than me, I think.'

'And you trust him?'

'I trust him.' Cam said with absolute certainty.

'Then we'll say no more about it.' His Dad moved the topic on but it wasn't too much longer before Cam's flight was up on the boards and they were hugging goodbye.

Cam made his way through security. He checked his duffle bag, and took the bare minimum with him onto the cramped plane. He hated travelling on commercial flights, felt the instinctive need of every pilot to be the one in control but he adjusted the aircon, squirmed into the hard seat until he could convince himself he was comfortable and let the businessman in the seat beside him steal the middle armrest.

The take-off was smooth and he stared out of the window at the white clouds below. He'd done the right thing but his Dad was right; Cam wasn't happy and it wasn't just because he screwed up with Amy. His mind drifted over his reluctance to talk to his team again before he shied away from thinking about it. He was going to had plenty of time to mull it over on his two week jaunt across America.

For a moment he worried whether it was such a good idea asking Sheppard; whether they were going to hate it and each other within hours. They could always call a halt and go their separate ways, Cam decided, but he didn't think it would happen.

He was suddenly weary; tired from the emotional impact of the days behind him and the repressed anxiety that he'd suffered in the months before that. He slid down so he could rest his head comfortably against the cushion and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

At breakfast, John wondered what the hell he was doing and not for the first time. The mess was fairly empty. Ronon was occupied with food and that left John with far too much silence in which to contemplate his sudden decision to take a trip with Mitchell. He'd been poised to say no but somehow he'd found himself accepting. OK, so maybe the idea of flying cross-country in a small plane was cool and hit all his buttons, John thought defensively, and ignored the embarrassed thought that he was looking forward to it.

He had talked himself in and out of the trip with Mitchell three times before he'd picked up the phone to call his brother. They'd been doing better in the year since their father had died. Mostly, John had spent a lot of time telling himself that if Rodney could heal a rift with a sibling then so could he. But his relationship with Dave was a long way off being OK even if the sporadic emails had mostly turned from stilted to civil to something that was bordering on more than civil.

His brother had been unsurprisingly surprised to hear from him and had listened to John's request to help him rent a plane without speaking. It had only been when John had fallen silent that he considered that maybe he should have planned to spend some time actually with Dave on his leave rather than heading out on a trip with Mitchell. Before he could apologise, Dave had simply promised to take care of it, guilted John into spending the night at the old house, and hung up.

Teal'c slid into the chair next to Ronon and they did a complicated handshake thing that John was tempted to laugh at except he liked his face the way it was. He'd heard on the grapevine that the rest of SG1 had returned from Kansas. John was somewhat surprised that Mitchell hadn't invited one of them to accompany him on the trip across the States but he reasoned that it was likely none of them had a flying license outside of the SGC.

'Can you believe that they're not serving waffles today?' Rodney spluttered as he sat down at the table.

John wisely ignored the question and took a sip of his coffee. 'Good morning to you too, Rodney.'

'Yes, yes, morning and all that.' Rodney waved his cutlery around as he began to eat a plate piled high with bacon, eggs and hash. 'Some of us have already been working for hours.'

'On what?' John asked idly, pushing his own plate aside and slouching back in his chair.

'Repairs.' Rodney grinned happily. 'I've been remote working with Radek on some of the more critical systems and...'

'You're beaming back in another hour, Rodney.' John pointed out, amused and not at all surprised. 'You couldn't wait?'

'You heard O'Neill; the sooner the better.' Rodney retorted around a mouthful of food.

'You are departing the SGC today?' Teal'c interjected.

'Yeah.' Ronon replied, mopping up tomato juice with a slice of bread.

'We got the go ahead last night. They just wanted us to hang around here because...' John frowned, 'actually, I'm not sure why they wanted us to hang around.'

'I heard about your promotion, Colonel Sheppard.' Teal'c inclined his head. 'Congratulations.'

'Thank you.' John felt a small swell of pride.

'You know the best thing about your promotion?' Rodney remarked. 'I can still call you Colonel.'

'That _is_ the best thing about my promotion.' John said dryly. He exchanged an amused look with Ronon.

The arrival of Daniel and Vala prevented Rodney from making a comeback. For a brief moment, there was chaos as both attempted to sit in the same seat next to Teal'c. Daniel ended up in the seat next to Rodney.

'Rod.'

'Danny.'

The two of them bared their teeth at each other.

'Play nicely, boys.' Vala suggested archly, grinning at them. She nudged Teal'c. 'We're going to Atlantis.'

'You are?' John and Rodney asked at the same time.

John was sure someone would have told him.

Daniel sent him an apologetic look and adjusted his glasses. 'I, uh, might have just gotten Sam to sign off on it.'

John mentally made a note to warn Lorne.

Sam snagged a spare chair and pulled it up to the top of the table beside John. 'Morning.' She set down a sensible tray of cereal, fruit and a mug of tea.

'Morning.' John smiled at her warmly. It had been good to have her in command of the SGC no matter how temporary it was. He gestured back at Daniel. 'I hear Atlantis is getting some visitors.'

Sam shot Daniel an annoyed look before she smiled at John. 'If that's OK with you? Daniel would like the opportunity to follow-up on some of the research he started when he visited you guys.'

Rodney snorted.

John's smile widened. 'OK, by me. I'm on leave.'

'Yes, you are.' Sam agreed wryly. There was a note of acknowledgement in her eyes that he wouldn't be around to deal with any fallout if Rodney and Daniel got kidnapped and the Stargate exploded.

'Huh,' Rodney stared at him, 'you're really going on leave?'

John could understand his disbelief. Rodney probably expected John to argue against being forced to take time off but truthfully John was tired enough that he was secretly OK with it. He needed a break from the relentless pressure, the constant state of combat readiness. Parked on Earth, Atlantis was the safest it had been for a while; they had the entire SGC and the somewhat battered resources of Homeworld Security to help them if there was an attack. Lorne could take care of the city for a couple of weeks.

'Walter said you've requested a beam down to Andrews?' Sam said quietly, pulling his attention back to her. She stirred her cereal thoughtfully.

John nodded.

'You're going to see Dave?' Rodney looked even more disbelieving.

John motioned with his mug. 'He's helping to organise the plane.'

'Plane?' Sam's blue eyes sharpened with interest.

John sat forward, nodding. 'We're flying cross-country Virginia to San Francisco. Kind of like a road trip but in the air.'

'We?' Rodney jumped on the pronoun like a bloodhound on the scent of a fox. He chewed and swallowed quickly. 'Not you and Dave? Because from what I know of your relationship, which granted isn't very much, that would be a gigantic leap forward.'

'No, not me and Dave.' John was suddenly hesitant. He wasn't sure if Mitchell had told his team but John reasoned that Sam would find out soon enough because Mitchell would have to log his change of whereabouts with the SGC. He shrugged. 'Me and Mitchell.'

The entire table stopped eating. There were varying levels of surprise and concern on the faces looking back at him.

John lowered his mug and looked back at them evenly. 'Is there a problem?'

'Yes.'

'No.'

Rodney and Sam spoke at the same moment. Sam glared at him.

'Oh, don't look at me like that.' Rodney shot back at her. 'Seriously, you can't tell me that you think it's a good idea for the two of them, the leader of SG1 and the military leader of Atlantis, to go off on some boys' own adventure together? I've read the reports; Mitchell gets into just as much trouble as Sheppard here.'

'Hey!' John protested.

Ronon's eyes gleamed with mirth. 'You do get into trouble a lot.'

John shot him a betrayed look.

'As does Colonel Mitchell.' Teal'c agreed.

'It's like the first sign of the apocalypse or something.' Rodney continued undaunted.

'We're planning to fly a plane and see some sights, Rodney,' John said defensively, 'not start an intergalactic war.'

'Well, we all know plan A never works.' Vala commented brightly.

'And what's with you flying a _plane_?' Rodney gestured with his fork. 'Why not take a puddle jumper?'

'Well, apart from the fact that I don't think we'll get permission to borrow the jumper for two weeks, the point of the trip is to fly something that needs concentration; finesse.' John stated, weaving his mug about as though it was a model airplane. 'Something that you _feel_ when there's a tailwind and turbulence.'

Daniel looked down the table toward John. 'It sounds like you miss flying.'

'Miss flying?' Rodney parroted. 'You can't get him out of the puddle jumpers.'

'There's a difference.' John insisted firmly.

'Well, I know I'm jealous. It's been a long time since I flew a plane like that.' Sam jumped in before Rodney could start. 'It was good of you to invite Cam along.'

'Actually,' John said without thinking, 'it was his idea.'

Daniel's eyes narrowed on him before looking toward Sam; something was communicated although John had no idea what.

'You're really allowing this?' Rodney asked Sam. But the look he sneaked John was one that said 'did you see that thing they did' and 'what do you think' all at the same time.

John gave a minute shake of his head.

'Even Air Force officers are free to do whatever they want on their leave, Rodney.' Sam remarked. She turned warm blue eyes on John. 'Just, you know; don't start an intergalactic war.'

'Maybe next vacation.' John tossed back. His phone vibrated and John opened it to check the incoming text. It was Mitchell with his flight details. John sent him an acknowledgement, warned him SG1 knew about the trip and snapped the phone shut. He set his mug down. 'Well, I should pack.'

'Hmmm.' Rodney shovelled the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth and stood. He chewed enthusiastically as he waved his hand at his mouth and at John. He swallowed and picked up his datapad. 'I'll walk with you.'

John let him because it was Rodney and for all their bantering, they had a rock solid friendship underneath; one that had weathered losses and change, arguments and fights, blowing up part of a solar system. They were in the elevator before Rodney spoke again.

'Are you sure this was a good idea?' Rodney asked as soon as the doors close.

'Jealous, McKay?' John needled him, smirking.

Rodney rolled his eyes. 'Yes, yes, I'm jealous that you'll be stuck in a tiny cockpit for two weeks.'

'You are jealous.' John replied with relish because winding Rodney up was his daily fun.

'I'm concerned.' Rodney retorted. His hands were already in motion, the datapad coming close to being whacked off the elevator control panel. 'The guy called off his wedding. Are you sure he's mentally stable enough to fly a plane?'

John wasn't surprised that Rodney had heard the gossip and shrugged. 'He called off a wedding, Rodney. He hasn't gone nuts.'

'I don't think that's what SG1 think.' Rodney said. His mouth slanted downwards, his brow furrowed. It was Rodney's 'this is a really bad idea' look, the one reserved for when John was about to embark on some foolish mission that had a fair chance of getting him killed. It seemed a bit extreme for the circumstances.

'They're concerned about him that's all.' John replied seriously.

'For apparently good reason.' Rodney stressed, clutching his datapad close.

'Look, Rodney, he's not nuts, just maybe unhappy and wanting to get away for a while, clear his head; that kind of thing.' John reassured him.

And suddenly Rodney looked at John as though he'd transformed into an interesting piece of Ancient technology.

John shuffled uncomfortably. 'What?'

Rodney turned away from him and stared up at the elevator floor indicator. 'You really think this trip is going to help him with that?'

'Yeah, I do.' John replied. 'Plus you know; two whole weeks of flying which is very cool.'

Rodney gave an audible sniff. 'Just try to remember that I'm not there to save you when you inevitably get into trouble.'

'I'll miss you too, Rodney.' John patted his back as the elevator slid to a halt.

In the end, it didn't take him long to pack. He wasn't surprised when there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find Teal'c on the other side. He simply opened the door wider and let the Jaffa in.

Teal'c immediately handed him the small box he carried. 'It is Colonel Mitchell's service weapon.'

John decided to find it a touching gesture rather than a disturbing indicator of Teal'c's belief in their chances of not needing a weapon for two weeks. John tried not to think about what it said about his own belief that his own weapon was one of the first things he packed. 'Thanks. I'll see that he gets it.' At least, he pondered with semi-seriousness, it was proof that SG1 didn't consider Mitchell suicidal.

Teal'c clasped his hands behind his back and regarded John impassively. 'This is a most difficult time for Colonel Mitchell.'

'It is.' John agreed and tried hard not to be intimidated.

'And yet he has chosen you to travel beside him.' Teal'c continued.

John nodded and said what he thought Teal'c was there to hear. 'I'll look after him.'

Teal'c suddenly smiled. 'Of that I have no doubt, Colonel Sheppard.' He tilted his head. 'It is more difficult I think to accept that he will allow you to do so and not allow us. That you have already helped him in this matter where we have failed.'

John understood. He remembered all too well the frustration when Teyla had kept her pregnancy secret, the horror of unknowingly putting her unborn child in danger coupled with a complete lack of comprehension about why she hadn't said anything to them - to him. There was an unspoken expectation in a team that they turned to each other before going outside of it. Conversely he also appreciated that sometimes it was too difficult, too hard to turn to those closest, who knew too much, saw too much. Of course, understanding didn't mean that he had a clue what to say.

Teal'c's lips twitched. 'I will endeavour to ensure Doctor McKay and Daniel Jackson do not kill each other when we visit Atlantis.'

'That would be good.' John smiled in appreciation for Teal'c letting him off the hook more than the promise.

Teal'c left.

An hour later, John beamed down into the Homeworld Security office at Andrews, saluted the Sergeant who was saluting him and allowed himself to be escorted out to a rental car that was a hundred times more sensible than the car John would have chosen.

John threw his duffle and jacket in the back, slipped into the driver's seat and headed out. He was meeting Dave at a private airfield to see the plane before going into Richmond to collect Mitchell. The airfield was tucked away in land that bordered the Sheppard estate. He drove past the driveway that would take him to the main house and followed the road down. The going was bumpy enough on the access road that John was grateful for the sensible car.

He pulled up outside the hangar and got out. He stretched, easing the ache of the drive from his muscles. Dave walked out before he could get any further. John plucked his sunglasses from his face and smiled at his brother.

Dave was dressed in what passed as casual wear for him; button-down shirt, khaki pants that looked as though they'd been ironed, a sports jacket in a matching shade of taupe was thrown over the ensemble. John felt scruffy by comparison in his worn jeans and an old Air Force t-shirt under an open checked shirt that had two buttons missing.

'Hi.' Dave stuck out his hand and John took it, leaning in to do the awkward man-hug, pat on the back thing. Touching had never been an approved Sheppard family activity.

Dave seemed to appreciate the gesture though, smiling as John moved back and they dropped their hands. He listed his head toward the hangar. 'Come and take a look.'

John sauntered after his brother and his eyes widened at the sight of the Cessna sitting in the hangar. She was a beauty. Sleek lines, shiny exterior. John hurried up and placed a hand on the fuselage.

'This is...great.' John's already running the stats of the plane through his head; the speed the single engine could achieve for one. He grinned when he turned back to his brother. 'This is perfect.'

'I'm glad you like it.'

'I'm not sure Mitchell and I can afford to rent this though.' John admitted, thinking about the price tag that usually accompanied the plane even though he had a healthy bank account thanks to minimal spending and the remains of a trust fund his grandparents had left him.

Dave shrugged. 'Don't worry about it.'

John realised that the plane was likely Dave's own property. His brother had inherited the bulk of the Sheppard estate. What had been left to John, John had handed over to his brother without regret. He didn't need the money.

'OK then.' John said enthusiastically. He would owe Dave but he could live with that.

Dave motioned at an aide who, John belatedly realised, had stood to the side watching with interest. The aide handed over an official looking folder. 'Paperwork. You need to sign some stuff.'

John nodded and when Dave headed to a nearby table, John trailed after him. Dave efficiently spread the documents on the surface and started pointing to various signature lines. John scrawled his signature over all of the pieces of paper enthusiastically without looking at much of it. He straightened when Dave indicated that there weren't any more signatures required.

'OK,' Dave said cheerfully, holding out one of the documents, 'congratulations on your new plane.'

John's eyes snapped to his brother. 'What?'

'You own her.' Dave reiterated. 'We'll handle getting the official registration updated.' He pushed the form at John.

John took it and this time read what he'd signed. It was a transfer of ownership for the Cessna along with a sales figure that made his eyes widen. 'Dave...'

'This,' Dave continued as though John hadn't spoken, 'is your security pass.'

John numbly took the slim card. It was almost like his American Express but had the Sheppard International logo on the front.

'Your birthday is the passcode but you want to change that.' Dave said. He handed him another couple of sheets of paper. 'One of the guys worked up a provisional flight plan which will allow you to use our airfields. Once you log the flight plan, we'll make sure there's a rental car available for you at the airfields when you arrive and you're more than welcome to use the corporate penthouses and...'

John felt the press of his father's ghost; the deep down certainty that he was being controlled. Right on its heels was the automatic response to rebel and clear the hell out. He took a deep breath. 'David.' The sharp commanding tone honed in the years he'd been in Atlantis, stopped his brother mid-speech.

Dave gestured for the aide to leave. He folded his arms and regarded John belligerently.

'This...' John held up the papers he was holding, 'and the airfields and the...' he caught his breath, 'it's too much.' He'd asked for help renting a plane not to have his flight organised; not to be given a plane he already loved but couldn't afford.

'You're part owner of Sheppard International.' Dave said mildly. 'It comes with some perks.'

'I'm...' John's eyes widened. 'I signed everything back to you!'

'No,' Dave disagreed, 'you signed over power of attorney for your inherited assets.'

'So you could transfer everything to you.' John shot back. He was a cauldron of competing emotions. Anger because he'd been fooled, resentment that he was being controlled, and underneath those was a surprising rush of bewilderment at why Dave hadn't taken the stocks and shares, the money and property.

'I'm not going to steal your inheritance any more than you're going to steal mine.' Dave said stubbornly.

John caught a flash of something before Dave turned away and hid it behind his usual icy indifference. He remembered it from their childhood. It was the same expression Dave had always worn when he would try to gain John's approval on something and John would dismiss him. John wondered absently when he'd stopped seeing the hurt and had started seeing only the indifference that covered it up. The thought that maybe the plane and the rest of it was not about Dave controlling him but trying to please him shot through John.

The anger died out abruptly. John's hands tightened on the papers he held almost crushing them. 'I…I don't know what to say.'

The change in his tone registered with Dave. His brother looked over at him sharply, eyes roaming over John as though reassuring himself of John's changed position. His expression eased into something hopeful. 'Thank you would be good.' He said dryly.

'Thank you.' John parroted back obediently.

And suddenly, they grinned at each other. For the first time in a long while, John felt like he was a brother again.


	4. Chapter 4

Cam was surprised when Sheppard picked him up from the airport in a two-seater Porsche convertible. He whistled and asked to drive. John grinned at him, told him it was his brother's so could he please not damage it and threw him the keys. It boded well for them sharing a cockpit.

They made small talk about the flight and music preferences when they mock-fought over the radio. They settled on a sports channel and talked about college football. The time passed by quickly and Cam was almost startled when Sheppard pointed out a driveway and he realised they were there.

'How rich are you?' Cam asked, daunted by the big house and grounds although he would never admit it out loud.

Sheppard shrugged sheepishly as they pulled up. He got out and Cam followed him, picking up his bag. 'My brother's the businessman; he takes after our Dad. He's very successful.' He hovered by the side of the car as Cam tossed him the keys back. 'I, uh, should warn you. I was, well, estranged for a while. Dave and I...well, we've been trying since Dad died but it's...a work in progress.'

For a second, Sheppard was caught in the amber glow of the evening sun. He looked tired; worn and vulnerable enough that Cam was reminded of Daniel's comment. The rush of protectiveness surprised Cam; he was sure Sheppard would kill himself laughing if he knew about it. Colonels weren't supposed to feel protective over other Colonels who almost certainly knew several ways of killing life-sucking vampires.

'OK.' Cam hefted his bag. 'Potentially hostile natives; got it.'

Sheppard's face lit up with humour. He led the way inside and Cam followed. The place was huge. Sheppard gave him a tour before waving away a hovering housekeeper and showing Cam to a guest room. The bed was easily twice the size of the one he had at home and the adjoining bath was filled with gleaming chrome and the latest in appliances. Sheppard left him to shower with the knowledge that they'd meet downstairs and go over to the hangar before dinner so Cam could check out the plane.

It was enough of a motivation to make Cam speed through his ablutions. The trip to the hangar was equally quick and before he knew it he stood in front of a Cessna, a wide and genuine grin splitting his face for the first time in days, maybe weeks.

'Now _that's_ what I'm talking about.' Cam breathed out.

Sheppard grinned back at him. 'Come on, let's get acquainted.'

They checked her out completely even though they'd do the same thing before they headed out the next day. They fell easily into a working rhythm; the Air Force gifting them with shared short-hand and processes that they automatically dropped into without discussion. Sheppard explained about the private airfields and offer of accommodation, and Cam nodded along happily. They agreed to split the fuel bill and expenses for food and beer. Somewhere in the conversation, Sheppard became John.

They were going over the flight plan when John's brother turned up. Dave seemed like an OK guy but it was clear he and John were feeling their way with one another. They all headed back to the house for dinner.

As they sat down, John threw him a look that in the field Cam would interpret as 'you're up' and Cam jumped in, asking Dave about his family. Dave seemed as appreciative as John in Cam taking the lead and answered back politely about his wife of five years, Heather, and his two children, JJ and Ella. They were apparently staying in the Hamptons with Heather's parents. There was real warmth in Dave's descriptions of JJ who was three and Ella who was barely one, and Cam noticed John drank up the information his brother shared like a thirsty man presented with water.

Dave broke the formality of the dinner to offer up photos and somehow by the time they got to dessert, there were a couple of photo albums out and the brothers were beginning to recall embarrassing childhood memories of each other. Cam figured his work was done. He excused himself and went to bed.

He was tired enough that when he closed his eyes he knew it wasn't going to take much to push him that extra nudge into sleep and for once, his mind refused to dwell on Amy or the aftermath. He thought about John and his brother instead; the strange dance of reconciliation they had going and wondered how much of the family estrangement was behind John's weariness. It was nice to have something to think about apart from his own problems, Mitchell mused. He slid into sleep between one thought and the next.

Cam slept for a straight eight hours and woke with the sunrise. He got ready and went in search of John. He found him running up to the front entrance having clearly gone for a jog. John spotted him and waved as he ran up.

'Hey, you sleep OK?' John unhooked earphones and slid them into the pocket of his sweatpants as he placed a bottle of water on the ground and started doing a series of stretches.

Cam leaned on the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. John didn't look like he'd slept at all. 'You?'

'Some.' John picked up the water bottle and took a healthy gulp. He lifted the bottom edge of his t-shirt to wipe at his brow.

'Ah, there you are.' Dave came out of the front door. 'Mrs Jeffers wanted...' he stopped abruptly at the sight of John, paled and stared.

Cam took another look at John seeing him through Dave's eyes; there were scars all over John's belly, some more faded than others. Cam grimaced, remembering the same kind of look on his mother's face after Antarctica when she'd seen the criss-cross of raw surgery scars along his legs; the realisation of how close she'd come to losing him. They were all faded now to thin silvery lines which considering the few times he'd lost his pants on missions was just as well but Cam could see each one; feel each one. John dropped the t-shirt quickly to cover himself up.

Dave swallowed and regrouped. 'Breakfast?'

'I'll get dressed.' John's hazel eyes were wary as they met Dave's. 'Meet you there in fifteen minutes?' He slid into the house without waiting for agreement.

Dave pulled himself back together quickly, turning to Cam with a polite smile. 'You must be hungry.'

'Breakfast sounds good.' Cam agreed, letting Dave pretend that he hadn't come close to falling apart at the evidence of how dangerous his brother's life really was. Dave led the way back into the house and through to the small conservatory off the back of the kitchen. Morning sunlight was streaming in over a neatly set table. He could definitely get accustomed to this, Cam thought with satisfaction as he sat down.

Dave took the seat next to him. 'Mrs Jeffers wanted to know how you'd like your eggs.'

Mrs Jeffers was the elderly, stout woman with grey curly hair pouring coffee into Cam's cup. He smiled up at her. 'Whatever's easiest for you, ma'am.' Before he knew it, he'd agreed to an omelette and Mrs Jeffers was walking out.

'She's been with the family years.' Dave said wryly. 'I've learned it's best not to argue.'

Cam sipped his very good coffee and nodded agreeably.

'May I ask why you joined the Air Force?' Dave said. He fiddled with his linen napkin, ignoring the coffee and juice. His mind was evidently still occupied by John's scars.

'My Dad was a test pilot.' Cam replied honestly. It wasn't the full story but Cam thought telling the story of how his father lost his legs was probably not a good idea. 'It was all I ever wanted to be.'

'All John ever wanted to be too.' Dave sighed. He offered Cam a basket of croissants.

'What about you?' Cam asked. He took one of the flaky pastries and ripped it apart, before spreading butter and jam liberally.

'I always wanted to be a businessman.' Dave admitted. He reached for his coffee and took a long gulp.

'Like your Dad?' Cam questioned.

Dave's lips twisted in a parody of a smile. 'Actually, I only got interested because of John.'

'I'm not sure I understand.' Cam admitted. The croissant was great; melting on his mouth and stirring his appetite.

'Sibling thing, I guess.' Dave explained succinctly. 'Dad wanted John to take over the business, so despite the fact that John didn't want it, I wanted it.'

Cam nodded thoughtfully. 'And got it.'

Dave shrugged. 'Dad started paying attention once I got my degree and asked for an interview into the graduate programme, and as it turns out, I'm very good at business.'

There was a pause while Mrs Jeffers slid plates of food in front of them, and before Cam could return to the topic, John entered, dressed in old jeans and another t-shirt which made Cam feel better about his own identical outfit. He looked at his plate to hide his smile at the thought that they were still conforming to a uniform of sorts.

'So what did I miss?' John asked as he smiled charmingly at Mrs Jeffers who blushed and told him she would be right back with his eggs.

'Swapping career stories.' Cam commented, carving up his omelette. 'Your brother was telling me that he always wanted to be in business.'

John poured himself a coffee and nodded. 'Well, he's really good at it.'

Cam saw Dave flush with pleasure at the unexpected praise from his big brother but John's attention was on the coffee and he didn't notice. Cam swallowed hastily. 'I have to admit I don't know much about business myself.'

'Dave increased profits this year against economic conditions.' John informed Cam briskly. 'Three quarters of consecutive growth. Employee satisfaction is high. We have less staff turnover compared to our competitors.'

Dave stopped eating and stared at John. 'How do you know all that?'

'I looked it up online last night.' John admitted, rearranging his cutlery. He looked at his brother with amusement. 'Thought if I'm part owner I should know the basics of how we're doing.' He held Dave's expression. 'Dad would have been proud of you.'

'I think he was in the end,' Dave said slowly, 'I mean, he never said, you know how he was, but I like to think he left me what he did because he knew I was good.'

'I think you're right.' John said simply and picked up his coffee.

Cam concentrated on his food and tried to pretend that he wasn't there. He sensed that the two brothers needed the conversation; had danced around it since their reconciliation. He wondered briefly at the kind of man Patrick Sheppard had been and thought fondly of his own father.

'I think that's why he left you what he did too.' Dave said tentatively.

'Maybe.'

There was a return of tension in John's tone. Cam raised his gaze quizzically and saw John's hand tighten around his cup. John was ready to reassure Dave that their father loved him but it seemed John wasn't prepared to accept such a reassurance for himself. Cam reached for his own coffee as casually as he could. 'You're part owner of Sheppard International?'

'Apparently.' John replied, and exchanged a look with his brother. There was obviously something more going on but it was between Dave and John, and since the shared brotherly moment meant the tension eased again Cam didn't mind being made the outsider.

Mrs Jeffers arrived with John's plate and silence broke out in favour of eating. Cam sat back, feeling full and satisfied.

Dave leaned back at the same time, leaving John alone finishing his food. 'You know if you're interested in knowing the basics of the business, we do have a full board meeting coming up in a few weeks.'

John speared his brother with a look that Cam interpreted as 'I didn't think so' with a dash of 'hell, no.'

Dave smiled back as though he expected the answer, signalling he was teasing. But his smile faded and his expression turned thoughtful.

'What?' John pressed.

Cam wondered again if he shouldn't excuse himself and leave the brothers to it.

'Nothing, I was...' Dave shook his head. 'Don't worry about it.'

John pinned Dave with a knowing, impatient look that said 'tell me or there will be consequences you will not like.' Cam took a moment to admire John's mastery of non-verbal communication and decided he had to try that particular look on his own team. It worked on Dave like a dream.

Dave cleared his throat. 'When people realised Dad had left some stock to you, it caused some rumblings. I mean, the board didn't know you or what you would do with it.' He sat forward, tapping his fingers restlessly against his coffee cup. 'Most of it went away when we announced you had no interest in the day to day running, were deployed overseas, and I was your proxy so had the controlling share.'

'Most of it?' John latched onto the same words that Cam had noted.

Dave's lips thinned. 'I'm an untried CEO, John. There are always those looking and waiting to see me fail, and if I do...' he lifted an eyebrow sardonically, 'it couldn't have escaped your notice that your stock combined with a couple of others on the board could shift control of the company.'

John frowned. 'Well, one; that it isn't going to happen because you're going to be my proxy like forever and, two: you're a great CEO.'

Cam knew John saw Dave's delight in the praise because John went almost as red as Dave, and both of them suddenly found their coffee very interesting. He rubbed his arm and decided the Sheppard brothers had provided him with enough unknowing entertainment for the morning. He suggested that he meet John in half an hour to go to the hangar and received a nod in return. He heard the murmur of their voices starting up again as he left the conservatory.

It took him no time at all to pack up. He dumped his bag in the hall and headed out for a walk. The difference between his parents' well-worn farm and the glossy manicure of the Sheppard's estate hit him before he'd walked a hundred yards but he kept going until he reached a fence. He leaned on the top railing, painted a perfect white, and watched the horses.

His mind strayed back to the Sheppard family; he wondered idly what it must have been like to grow up with so much wealth and yet so little certainty of a parent's love and approval. He wondered idly what happened to John's Mom; where she had been while Patrick Sheppard had played power games with his sons.

He felt a rush of thanks for his own parents. He thought of their unquestioning support of his career even after the crash in Antarctica; of his decision about Amy. He remembered his Dad's words at the airport, remembered the brief courtesy call to his Mom when he'd arrived at the airport and her maternal concern for him.

Suddenly, he couldn't remember why he had felt trapped at home; why he was running away from _them_. He reached for his cell before he could question the action.

'Frank Mitchell.'

'Hey, Dad, it's me.' Cam turned around and rested back on the railing, one arm crossed tightly over his torso.

'You OK, son?' His Dad asked immediately.

'I'm...' _not OK._ Cam shook his head and began again. 'I just...I love you guys; you know that right?'

'We know.' His Dad said. 'We love you too.'

And Cam wanted to explain, wanted to tell his Dad that he was right; Cam knew he was unhappy but he didn't know why. He was going to find out though and then he was going to fix it; that he hated that they couldn't fix it for him because he knew it hurt them...which might have been why he needed to leave the farm but he couldn't seem to think of the words; couldn't seem to talk past the lump in his throat.

'We're going to be right here when you're through this.' His Dad said into the silence.

Cam rubbed a hand over his head and stared at the grass. 'I don't even know _what_ I'm doing.'

'You're doing what you need to do right now.' His Dad said reassuringly. 'We understand.'

Cam laughed at that roughly. 'I'm glad someone does.'

'It's working though, isn't it?' His Dad pointed out gently.

And he was right; the day before Cam would never had called his Dad; never admitted that anything was wrong other than the obvious break-up and debacle with Amy. He shifted and caught sight of John by the front door. Cam waved to acknowledge that he'd seen him.

'I have to go, Dad.' Cam said.

'Stay safe.' His Dad replied.

Cam finished the call and headed back toward the house. John was loading the car with their duffle bags and two large coolers.

'Provisions.' John explained. 'Mrs Jeffers insisted and...'

'And it's better not to argue with Mrs Jeffers.' Cam finished with a smile, handing him the second cooler.

'All OK?' John gestured back towards the fence and Cam gets that he's referring obliquely to the phone call.

'Just checking in with my folks.' Cam replied. It felt good to say it and mean it. He stepped back to let John close the trunk.

John turned around and Dave walked over. There was a painful moment of hesitation before Dave reached for his brother. They hugged awkwardly and both wore relieved faces when they stepped back.

'So.' John said.

Dave pushed his hands into his pants' pockets. 'I'll call you about San Francisco.'

John nodded. He made for the driver's seat.

Cam reached his hand out to shake Dave's. 'Thanks for the hospitality.'

'Any time.' Dave darted a glance toward John and back to Cam. There was evidently something he wanted to say but couldn't. Cam could take a guess at what it was.

'I'll look after him.' Cam promised in a low voice.

Dave's expression cleared. 'Thanks.'

Cam slid into the passenger seat and, with a final wave at Dave, they were on their way back to the hangar.

'San Francisco?' Cam asked as he settled into the seat.

'Dave's going to meet me when we get there.' John said as though it wasn't a big deal. His face twisted into a grimace. 'So we can finalise the details for the board meeting.'

Cam smiled. He might have guessed faced with the choice of protecting his brother or not, John would have given in.

'It's not funny.' John grumbled. 'I have to wear a suit.'

'That is awful.' Cam agreed insincerely. 'I don't know how you'll survive.'

John lifted a hand from the wheel and when he glanced at Cam, laughter sparked golden glints in John's hazel eyes. 'Go ahead. Laugh it up.'

'You could change your mind.' Cam teased.

'Really can't.' John sighed, sobering. 'He didn't say it but I think he needs a show of strength to consolidate his position.' He glanced over again. 'Thanks by the way. It's helped having you here as a...'

'Visiting diplomat?' Cam offered when John struggled to find a description.

John laughed shortly. 'That works.'

'You never reconciled with your father before his death?' Cam asked curious.

'No.'

And the walls went up with the single word. The subject was as off-limits as it had been when Cam had offered his condolences over a year before in a rushed meeting in an elevator at the SGC. He wondered whether John had grieved for his father at all; whether it was grief at the root of the fatigue that dogged the other man.

Tactically, Cam changed the subject to the flight plan and they talked about that until they arrived at the hangar. It was a busy morning. They finalised the plan, logging it with the air authorities along with the paperwork with the help of Dave's assistant, and with the SGC. They checked over the plane again and packed her up with the bags and coolers.

Just after lunch, they were ready to go. John assumed the controls and Cam tried hard not to fidget in the seat beside him as John radioed Richmond and asked for clearance. It was John's plane but Cam knew he'd get his turn.

Two minutes later, the plane raced down the airstrip and zoomed into the open blue sky. Cam's heart lifted as they climbed; his breathing easing out with each cloud they passed.

John grinned beside him and Cam grinned back.

Cam's Dad was right; Cam was doing exactly what he needed to do and he needed this; needed to fly like he needed air.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 2: Flight**

The hum of the engine and the faint muted hiss of wind around the plane were the only sounds in the cockpit. John appreciated the almost reverent quiet that Mitchell had fallen into as John's mind had been occupied with his brother and the agreement to go to the board meeting.

What the hell had he agreed to, John wondered, ignoring the faint undertow of panic that accompanied the thought. He had a sense that somewhere in the afterlife his father was laughing at him.

His father had always wanted him in the business. He'd had it planned out from the moment of John's birth - possibly conception but as John had no memory of that time it was just an educated guess. One of his earliest memories was of sitting in his father's lap in the study, the massive desk going on forever in front of him...and holding onto a toy plane with all his meagre strength. John couldn't remember a time when he and his father hadn't been in conflict over John's desire to fly.

Poor Dave, John mused thoughtfully. Maybe his kid brother might had had a chance of some kind of positive childhood relationship with their father if John hadn't been so damn stubborn about flying or his father hadn't been so damn stubborn that John would go into the business. But Patrick Sheppard had been so completely focused on bending John to his will that Dave had spent his formative years ignored by their father for the most part.

Of course, things had only gotten worse when their Mom had died. John only had fleeting moments of the accident before the impact of a tree - the sense of speed, the twists and turn of the road, his mother's panic. He remembered coming to; Dave creepily silent in the back and his mother trapped in the driver's seat. Eleven years old, he had dragged an unconscious Dave out to the side of the road and gone back for his mother, only there had been an explosion, heat and force, the sensation of slamming into asphalt and all the breath leaving his body...

The plane shuddered.

John eased his hold on the yoke, checked the instruments again to make sure he was on course, and almost smiled as Mitchell shifted for the first time. 'You want to take over for a while?'

Mitchell's hands were on the controls so fast, John grinned again. He felt the adjustment under his own hands as Mitchell found the balance.

'I have control.' Mitchell said.

John removed his hands. He rolled his shoulders and stretched.

His Mom's death had signalled the end of any kind of detente between John and his father. It had been a fast slide to the rebellion over Harvard; the yelling over John signing up to ROTC and the Air Force. The first few years he'd been deployed he'd stayed in touch, gone home during his leave, sat through his father's attempts to win him back to the business...and met Nancy.

John remains convinced that his father had approved of his marriage only because he had believed Nancy would eventually persuade John to leave the Air Force. Of course, she hadn't. Flying came first. Flying had always come first for John.

Until Atlantis.

John's lips twisted wryly and he dragged his thoughts back to his father. His smile fell away as he recalled their last meeting. He'd had a furious argument with his father over accepting the exile to Antarctica. His father had been livid that John had chosen flying again over the honourable discharge that had been offered to him. It had been their worst fight ever; every harsh word had been spoken, every barb flung. John could hear the echo of his father's voice ringing in his ears, blaming John for his mother's death...

John's jaw clenched tightly enough that his face ached with it. He took a deep breath.

Really, his father's words had only confirmed what John believed himself but they'd hurt him deeply. Dave had come along when John had been packing his things, and tried to talk him out of leaving; tried to talk him into staying and joining the business, leaving the Air Force just like his Dad and John had lost it. He'd had walked out, swearing he would never speak to his family again. In hindsight, since he'd learned of his father's death, John regretted sticking so rigidly to his decision; wondered sometimes if he and his father couldn't have come to some kind of reconciliation if John had just picked up the phone during his rare trips back to Earth.

But then, he couldn't help thinking his father would never have given up on trying to get John into the business. John thought the inheritance was a final attempt from his father beyond the grave and he couldn't help think he - and Dave – had fallen for his old man's tactics. Because, of course, Dave would never take John's inheritance, knowing it was their father's wish for John to have it, and that left John part-owner of a business he never wanted. It wasn't Dave's fault; none of the craziness between John and their father had ever been Dave's fault.

And John was suddenly furious with himself. He had abandoned Dave when he'd walked out; left him behind. No wonder Dave had cold with him at the wake. But John's anger shifted abruptly to his father for screwing with Dave's inheritance, because Dave deserved to get control outright. So, John would suck it up and do what he needed to do to make sure Dave's position as CEO was secure, which apparently included going to an incredibly boring meeting and making nice with various board members, assuring them that Dave had John's full support and always would.

Crap.

'She handles like a dream.' Mitchell said.

John slid a look at him. Mitchell was happily engrossed in examining the instruments, his hands steady on the yoke. John was swamped by a rush of gratitude that the other man was with him; that there was someone else there to take him out of the memories and the anger, to stop him obsessing about it. He figured he was probably performing a similar service for Mitchell and the wedding that never was.

'You thought of a name for her yet?' Mitchell asked.

'Maggie.' John said impulsively. 'She feels like a Maggie to me.' For a moment, John flashed back to the first days on Atlantis; to Aiden Ford sitting beside him and talking of naming things, so young and enthusiastic and...lost. He closed his eyes briefly to shake the image and belatedly realised that Mitchell was talking again.

'OK, very Simpsons but OK.' Mitchell nodded. 'This is so cool.'

'Very cool.' John reached for the water he'd stashed by his seat. He took a long swig and pushed it back into its hiding place.

'So, I've been thinking...' Mitchell began.

'You know no good ever came from those words.' John said dryly.

Mitchell laughed. 'That's because you usually hear them from McKay and I usually hear them from Jackson.'

'God knows what they're going to get up to together.' John said, folding his arms and wondering what was going on in Atlantis with McKay and Jackson. He thought they would be lucky if the two of them didn't blow up the city.

'Leave.' Mitchell stressed. 'We're on leave. They are someone else's problem for a whole two weeks.'

Although not really. Both of them didn't say it but they knew if there was trouble, both of them would head back without a single second thought.

'Lorne's.' John said lightly, pretending otherwise anyway. He waited a beat. 'We're going to have to get him a present to make it up to him.'

Mitchell laughed again. 'Getting back to my original point...'

'You were thinking.'

'Of swapping stories.' Mitchell continued.

'Swapping stories?' John questioned, not sure if he was completely behind the idea. He was more comfortable with the thought that he didn't have to talk about anything, not the Stargate or Atlantis, not his family or his service in the Air Force for two whole weeks; didn't have to think about what had gone wrong, what he'd lost.

'For flight time.' There was a hint of challenge in Mitchell's easy smile.

John felt his competitive spirit stir. He tilted his head and gestured for Mitchell to continue, intrigued.

'OK, so this was how I'm thinking it'll work.' Mitchell suggested quickly. 'One of us picks a story - any story about any mission we've personally been involved with in some way during our time in the Stargate programme...'

'But not before?' John clarified.

'Not before,' Mitchell confirmed, 'the other has to come up with a story that has a similar theme, say like clones or time travel or...'

'Heroically saving the day.' John suggested sarcastically as Mitchell paused.

'Exactly.' Mitchell grinned, seemingly ignoring the sarcasm in favour of arguing for his idea. 'After hearing both stories, we confer and agree who wins.' He adjusted course slightly. 'Winner gets eighty per cent of the flight time the next day.'

'Sixty.' John said automatically, knowing that it was as good as agreeing to the idea.

'Seventy.' Mitchell countered.

'Sixty-five.'

'Deal.' Mitchell looked entirely too pleased with himself which meant sixty-five was his aim.

'Loser gets to pick the initial story next time,' John added hurriedly, ' _and_ can demand a rematch.'

'Seems fair.' Mitchell said. 'I'd shake your hand on it but I'm a little busy keeping us in the air.'

John laughed and shifted position. The seats were comfortable; a blessing because they were going to be spending a lot of time in them.

'You want to go first?' Mitchell asked.

'Hmmm?'

'With the story?' Mitchell said. 'I'm thinking it's only fair since Maggie is your plane but I could...'

'No, I'll go first.' Like he was going to pass up an advantage. John frowned. Had he just agreed to tell a story?

'So...' Mitchell pressed impatiently.

'I'm thinking.' John said, evasively. 'It's an important decision.'

'Maybe we should add a time limit into the rules.' Mitchell muttered.

John spared a second to glare at him and let his mind skate over five years of missions. Something fun, something that involved no-one dying or getting seriously injured, John thought. They had to have had some of those missions, right? Maybe at the beginning? Or maybe not. Waking the Wraith. Shooting Sumner. Shooting...oh.

John let a smug smile stretch across his lips. 'It was a couple of days after we got to Atlantis. It was chaos. The Athosians were living with us, stuff stacked up in corridors while we cleared areas, ten thousand year old dead plants everywhere.'

He hadn't let himself think about those days for a long time.

John gazed out at the sky. 'So, Rodney signs up to be the first person to get the gene therapy and it works. He has this device, a small green oval thing that he wants to test and he does. It's a personal shield which makes him invulnerable.'

'I remember reading about those.' Mitchell murmured.

'He walks right up to me and asks me to shoot him.' John smiled at the memory; at Rodney's glee as he coaxed him. 'And I'm thinking why not? I mean, don't get me wrong; I liked Rodney, but most of what I'd seen had been what people usually see with him.' He waved a hand. 'You know...' he didn't detail out Rodney's faults; the prickly arrogance, the hypochondria, the egocentric view of the world.

'Yeah.' Mitchell commented dryly. 'I know.'

'But there he was asking me to shoot him.' John smiled. 'So I shoot him in the leg.'

'You shot him?' Mitchell laughed.

'Only he has the personal shield and it doesn't hurt him at all.' John grinned as he recalled the moment. 'So we decide to throw him off a balcony.' And that had been sheer fun; both of them had loved that. 'Elizabeth's face was a picture.' John's voice cut off immediately. He missed Elizabeth; felt guilty that he couldn't save her.

'I think I'd pay good money to see it again.' Mitchell filled in the sudden silence.

John regrouped and took a breath. 'Anyway, Rodney couldn't get the shield to come off. He couldn't drink and he couldn't eat. So he's walking around telling everyone he's going to die.' He wet his lips. 'And then, Jinto, one of the Athosian kids goes missing and people are seeing shadows in the corridor. Rodney and I track him to this room where we discover Jinto who has accidentally let out this big shadowy energy monster.'

'The original bogeyman.' Mitchell murmured.

'So Rodney works out that the trap gives off some kind of energy pattern that attracts the monster only someone had to stay and press the right buttons.' John continued, his mind back in the Ancient lab and the trap. 'And unsurprisingly, Rodney's shield decides in that moment to stop working and falls off him.'

'So I guess you volunteered to press the buttons.' Mitchell commented.

'Yeah, but it didn't work.' John said. 'This thing was like a shark; it's intelligent. But it wants energy so we come up with a plan to send it through the Stargate using one of naquadah generators as bait on a MALP. Only, of course, it doesn't work.' He shook his head, remembering the Stargate open and the gate room filling with the black cloud of energy. 'The energy sucks the energy out of the MALP and it's just there; going nowhere. I'm thinking how the hell do we stop this...'

John smiled at the memory.

'And then I see Rodney making his way down into the cloud. He's wearing the shield but it's not a guarantee and I know that he knows that if he comes into contact with it, he'll suffer major electrical burns or die. But he wades in anyway and throws the generator through the Stargate and the energy monster goes with it. When it clears, all we can see is Rodney out cold on the floor of the gate room.'

'I take it he survived since he's still with us.' Mitchell's tone had a note of respect for Rodney that John hadn't heard before and he was pleased about that because Rodney deserved respect.

'He survived.' John acknowledged. 'But he risked his life and saved us. And that's when I knew I'd met the real Rodney McKay.' The one who had become John's best friend.

'It gives me a new perspective on him.' Mitchell admitted. 'I mean, objectively I know he's good at what he does, he has to be otherwise you wouldn't have him on your team and I've seen it for myself on the mission we had together, but...' he sighed, 'he isn't the easiest person to get along with.'

'No,' accepts John glibly, 'but who is?' But he was pleased that Mitchell saw Rodney in a new light. Rodney would appreciate it even if outwardly he pretended that it didn't matter what people thought of him.

Mitchell acknowledged that with an incline of his head. He cleared his throat. 'So, the theme is...'

'Unexpected heroics.' John stated firmly.

'Ah, geez.' Mitchell looked over at him with a hurt expression. 'My team is SG1, Sheppard. Heroics are kind of expected behaviour.'

John grinned and pointed at him. 'Are you forfeiting?'

'No.' Mitchell said automatically.

There was silence while Mitchell evidently tried to think of a story.

'Maybe there should be a time limit.' John teased when the silence stretched into minutes.

'Oh, shut up.' Mitchell laughed. 'Let me...aha!' He grinned at John. 'I know exactly the right story.'

'I'm all ears.' John assured him and was surprised to find he meant it. He rarely got time to read the mission reports from the SGC; barely had enough time to write his own and read the Atlantean ones that he had to sign-off.

'OK,' Mitchell cleared his throat, 'so the story takes place soon after we encountered the Ori. The Priors have been coming through the Milky Way gates and starting to convert people. We got an unexpected visitor; a Goa'uld called Nerus. Fat guy. Loved his food. Very excited at meeting Jackson and Teal'c; not so much me.'

'Makes sense.' John could hear the insecurity buried under the surface amusement. 'They had to have had reputations in Goa'uld land by that point.'

'Oh yeah,' Mitchell agreed, 'and I wasn't surprised that Nerus wondered who the hell I was.' He lifted a shoulder, dismissing it. 'Anyway, getting back to the story, he tells us that he has intel. A Prior has arrived on a Jaffa held world and is doing some kind of funky thing to the gate.'

'Funky thing.' John repeated. 'Is that an approved technical term?'

Mitchell shot him a look.

John held up a hand and gestured for him to continue.

'Sam arrives courtesy of General O'Neill with a large nuke and off we go to stop the Prior.' Mitchell continued. 'Only, of course, it doesn't work.'

It took John a moment to recognise his own words parroted back at him. 'I'm shocked.' He placed a hand dramatically on his chest and pouted with false sympathy.

Mitchell laughed. 'We give the Prior enough energy that he can connect with the Ori galaxy and they start sending through the parts to build a Supergate.'

'Really?' John frowned. He was sure the Supergate came later; much later. 'I didn't realise they'd gotten a Supergate up that early.'

'They didn't thanks to the unexpected heroics of one particular person.' Mitchell said. 'We're all wondering what the hell to do. Sam and Jackson are arguing. Vala's trying to get our attention and we're not paying her any because, frankly, at this point, she's still mostly the annoying thief who attached herself to Jackson against his will and who we have to put up with.'

'Let me guess how this ends.' John murmured, because he did remember _some_ of the story since he'd met Vala. He folded his arms over his chest.

'Vala decides to take matters into her own hands. She rings onto a nearby Jaffa scout ship, sends the stunned Jaffa back to us. Flies into the space between two parts and shorts the whole Supergate out. And in saving our galaxy from an imminent Ori invasion, she gets sucked into the Ori galaxy.' Mitchell grinned at him.

John knew Mitchell thought he'd won. 'If I recall correctly, Vala wasn't on your team at the time.'

'Was Rodney a member of yours two days in?' Mitchell countered.

John grinned. 'First person I asked.'

Mitchell's smug grin dimmed but he shrugged. 'OK, but unexpected heroics leading to galaxy saving from an army of Ori worshippers, I believe trumps unexpected heroics saving your expedition from a single scary monster.'

'I concede.' John allowed. He gestured at Mitchell. 'And since you're flying so much tomorrow, I'll take Maggie back now.'

Mitchell wasn't surprised and handed over control graciously. John settled back into the rhythm of flying.

'It's weird.' Mitchell commented after a while. 'I haven't thought back to those days in a long time.'

'Me either.' John admitted.

'I didn't have a team back then.' Mitchell complained plaintively. 'Jackson was only around because he missed his ride to Atlantis and tripped over the Ori. Teal'c was hanging out because the Jaffa voted for Gerek. Sam was ordered to participate in the mission because of the nuke and Vala was there in case her bond thing with Jackson went loopy.' He sighed. 'I turn up on my first official day on SG1 thinking I'm joining them and get told by Landry; here Mitchell, you're leading SG1 and by the way, you're the sole member; go choose your team.'

'My first official day, I woke up the Wraith.' John replied.

'OK,' Mitchell conceded, 'admittedly, if you ever decide to tell the first day story, you may have an advantage.' He paused. 'Unless you want to tell it now?'

'Another time.' John evaded. He didn't plan to talk about it _ever_. His eyes caught on something in the sky. 'Hey, isn't that...'

'Another plane?' Mitchell twisted to look. 'Looks like it. I thought air control said we had clear skies.'

'They did.' John frowned. He saw Mitchell patting his pocket where his side-weapon was hidden. John's was stowed under his seat.

Neither of them relaxed until the plane disappeared.

The rest of the journey to Florida was uneventful and they landed in Jacksonville, tired but pleased with their maiden flight. The rental car was waiting for them as Dave had promised and they drove out to the hotel where Sheppard International kept a suite for visiting executives. Checked in, showered and changed, they headed to the beach.

Neither of them had dressed for swimming; Mitchell wore boots, jeans and a t-shirt, and John had settled on a white button down over khaki pants and flip-flops. Mitchell found a good spot to sit where they could watch the waves until the sunset. He had the look of someone who rarely saw the ocean; reverence and awe playing across his tanned face which was turned worshipfully up to the sun. John offered to walk a short distance to a beach bar and buy some beers.

John waited for someone to take his order and his mind wandered to the competition he and Mitchell had going for flight time, the story he had picked. Before he was aware of what he was doing, he had his cell out and he had dialled Rodney.

'Oh my God, what's happened? Are you in trouble? Did someone shoot at you? Is the plane broken? If you give me a minute...'

'Rodney!' John barked and turned away from a table of interested bystanders. 'I'm fine. I'm just...' What the hell _was_ he doing? John searched for the term Mitchell had used. 'I'm just checking in.'

'Well, we've started the repairs and...'

'Checking in with _you_ , Rodney.' John said hurriedly. 'Not the city.'

There was a brief pause.

'OK, have you been taken over by an alien?' Rodney asked, worriedly.

John rolled his eyes. He knew there was a reason he didn't usually call. 'I can hang up if you want.'

'No, no!' Rodney replied. 'I'm just…surprised?'

John picked up a cardboard bar mat and examined it carefully.

'I'm fine.' Rodney said hesitantly. 'Busy with the repairs, of course, so spending quality time with Radek and the SGC sent us complete morons so…and you don't need to know about that, do you? Oh, Jennifer's gone to see her father, and I think she was hoping I would go with her but you know, hello, repairs? Um…Teyla's good. She and Kanaan are looking forward to us going back.'

The bartender turned up in front of John and John indicated two beers in sign language, gesturing an apology for using his phone at the same time. His eyes caught on a man in a business suit at the end of the bar. Suits were definitely not the dress code and John's internal warning system started to tingle.

'We haven't seen much of Ronon. He's spending time with Teal'c bonding over knives or wrestling or something.' Rodney continued, ending in a rush. 'You?'

'Good. I'm good.' John kind of meant it too; the oppressive tiredness that had been pressing down on him seemed better somehow. He wondered idly if he was overreacting to the Suit. He'd been in combat a long time and they warned for paranoia in returning to civilian situations. He shifted to look out at the ocean. 'Hey, if you had to choose a story to tell about us that would beat anything Mitchell and his team have done in the last five years, what would you choose?'

'Why?'

The two beer bottles were plonked down on the bar in front of him and John handed over his money. 'Mitchell and I kind of have a competition thing going on. Whoever tells the best story gets the majority of the flight time the next day.' He could picture Rodney rolling his eyes.

'Seriously? You're actually competing over who flies?'

'I'm already down one.' John told him as he wound the fingers of his free hand around the bottles' necks and picked them up. 'It's a matter of team pride, Rodney.'

'What story did you tell him?'

'The one about you and your first Hail Mary.' John answered immediately, knowing Rodney would get the reference. His eyes strayed to the Suit as John walked past. The Suit was ordering a drink; maybe he was just a travelling businessman who'd had a hard day.

'That's a good story.' Rodney confirmed with a sniff. 'How did it lose?'

'Vala saved the galaxy.' John said, fairly sure if anyone overheard the comment it would be dismissed as nonsense. His feet sank into sand; the heat conducted through the thin rubber soles and he winced.

'Hmmm.' Rodney huffed out. 'Tell him about when you turned into a bug.'

'I don't talk about that, Rodney.' John reminded him as he stopped walking, catching sight of Mitchell. He didn't want Mitchell to overhear him plotting behind his back.

'But it's gold.' Rodney pointed out. 'I'm betting Mitchell's never turned into a bug.'

John grimaced. Bug story then, but it could wait until tomorrow. 'Thanks; got to go.'

'Oh, before you go, can you give me your plane registration?' Rodney slid in almost casually.

Like John didn't know what Rodney would do with _that_ information. 'No.'

'But...'

'You'll have to find some other way to stalk me, Rodney.' John said, cheerfully. 'I'm hanging up now.' He snapped his phone shut with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

'You're a sadist.' Cam declared and lurched to a halt in front of the polished glass doors of the hotel. He bent over and tried to catch his breath.

John was busy stretching their morning run out of his muscles and simply grinned at him. Cam followed his example. He was going to be feeling every step of the four mile jog as it was without adding muscle strain to the damage.

'If you're going to be too tired to fly later...' John teased.

Cam's answering grin was warm and easy. 'Not a chance.'

John smirked and moved into another limber stretch that had Cam grimacing and wondering how John managed it. He was pleased though to see the other man looking relaxed and rested for all they were both dripping sweat and flushed from their run. He thought maybe John had actually slept the night before.

One woman walking by nudged her friend and adjusted her sunglasses to get a better look at them. Cam was aware they made a picture; both of them weren't exactly ugly looking and although they were both in sweats, their t-shirts were mostly plastered to their torsos. Cam hid his grin at John's complete obliviousness. Or maybe not obliviousness, Cam revised as he realised John was watching in the polished door and smirking at being ogled.

'Boys.' The woman said appreciatively.

John's head swivelled round. He smiled charmingly at the passing women. 'Ladies.'

Cam followed suit with a smile and nodded. The women continued walking but they smiled back at them over their shoulders. It suddenly occurred to Cam that John might want some female company on their trip at some point. After all, John hadn't just ended an engagement, was free and single, and was on leave.

Cam nudged John's shoulder. 'You want to go after them and invite them for breakfast?'

John shook his head. 'Nope.' He stopped abruptly and stared at Cam. 'Unless you…' he gestured towards where the women were disappearing around a corner.

'Oh, hell, no!' Cam held his hands up. 'I'm officially taking myself out of the game but I'm OK if you want…'

'I'm good.' John stated without expanding. 'So…breakfast?'

'Shower first.' Cam said, plucking his t-shirt away from his body. He followed John inside.

There was a guy in an atrocious shirt sat in the lobby. Cam made him immediately as someone out of place. He wore the wrong clothes for a hotel of its calibre and was desperately hiding behind what seemed to be an upside down French newspaper. More than that, Cam was certain that he had seen the guy in the diner John had dragged him into the night before on the basis that he hadn't had a real American burger and fries forever. Cam had found himself nostalgically enjoying the same along with a root float. The guy had been sat two booths behind John.

Cam was figuring what to do when he looked over at John. The dangerous light in the other man's hazel eyes was enough to cool Cam's blood. John had obviously made the guy too and he was staring at him as though he'd already planned how to get rid of the body.

Cam stepped directly into John's eye-line. He signalled for them to continue to the elevator. John nodded unhappily and said nothing. They waited until they were in the suite before talking.

'The guy with the shirt…' John began.

'Is tailing us.' Cam completed. 'Yeah, got that. Saw him in the diner last night.'

'He was at the beach bar too.' John raked a hand through his hair. 'Damn.'

'We need to call it in.' Cam reached for his phone.

John grimaced but motioned for Cam to get on with it.

Cam's phone chose that moment to ring loudly. It was Sam. He mouthed that at John and answered. 'Hey, we were…'

'So, I have Malcolm on my other line saying that you're about to kill one of his people?' Sam cut him off with a tone somewhere between aggrieved and amused.

Malcolm. Agent Barrett. NID. Cam made the connection and let out a relieved breath. He leaned his hip against the desk. 'The idiot downstairs is NID?'

John's eyes widened and he mimed that he was going to take a shower. Or that he was washing his hands of the entire sorry mess but as he disappeared toward his room, Cam was inclined to go with his first thought.

Cam was annoyed at the NID guy; annoyed that their leave had been interrupted; annoyed that having just gotten the tired look out of John's eyes, he could see it there again. Operation Get Sheppard Talking was going well; the story thing was, in Cam's opinion, inspired. He didn't think John would talk about any of the really bad stuff – the dodge on the first day story had verified that – but maybe talking about some of any of it would be good enough to help John in some way.

'So I can reassure Malcolm you're not planning on killing his guy?' Sam was all the way amused now.

'Why were we being followed?' Cam retorted.

'There's chatter about the two of you connected to both the Trust and the Lucien Alliance.' Sam said. 'You're both high profile targets and you're travelling together so I don't need to tell you that made you a bigger target.' She sighed. 'Malcolm said one of the NID intelligence analysts thought there was something unusual in the chatter but his superiors disagreed so he struck out on his own and…well, you made him so he called Malcolm.'

Cam rubbed his forehead. That the guy downstairs wasn't an agent at least explained how bad he was at camouflage.

'Look, I'm going to look into the chatter.' Sam said seriously. 'If this guy thought he saw something maybe he did, but it's more likely this was the usual talk about the two of you.'

'You do know that it's not exactly comforting that the Trust and the Alliance usually talk about us, right?' Cam drawled.

'Just…enjoy your leave.' Sam replied, and she sounded tired; like she had been woken up at an ungodly hour by Barrett to prevent Cam and John beating up one of his people. 'And don't kill the guy in the lobby.'

'You need to tell Barrett his guy's an idiot.'

'An idiot who realised that he'd been made.' Sam countered. 'You and John do know how not to give away your own position, don't you?'

There was a dial tone before he could respond, and once he got past the surge of annoyance and the thought that Sam had spent way too much time learning command at the hands of Jack O'Neill, he appreciated her point. Well, what was done was done and Cam was more interested in what to do next.

Cam scrawled a message for John, explaining both the situation and what he was about to do, and left it in plain sight. He went back down to the lobby. He needed to be quick if he was going to catch the guy. He took the stairs and ignored the twinges of pain in his bad knee as he made it to the lobby just in time to see the guy closing his phone and looking down at his feet in a dejected way.

Cam walked over swiftly and pinned on his best 'I come in peace' smile. 'Hey.'

'Oh God.' The NID analyst was young; pale brown hair cut short to try and hide the bald spot forming. He carried some extra weight not quite hidden by the yellow and green Hawaiian shirt and dark pants. His brown eyes were apprehensive.

Cam stuck his hand out. 'Cam Mitchell.'

'Yes, Colonel.' The guy looked at him dubiously as he shook hands. 'I know who you were. I'm sorry for…' he gestured at Cam, 'and I'll be out of your hair very soon.' Chagrin danced across his face and Cam bet anything that Barrett had given Analyst Guy a blistering earful.

'Way I see it you were trying to help us.' Cam said sincerely. 'How about breakfast as a thank you?'

Analyst Guy looked shell-shocked. He pointed at Cam. 'You want to have breakfast with _me_?'

Cam continued smiling and reached out to pat the guy's shoulder. 'Come on. We didn't want to keep John waiting.' He turned and walked away, and as he predicted, the guy followed obediently.

They rode the elevator back up to the suite in nervous silence and Cam was relieved to find John dressed in his usual jeans and a white t-shirt if sporting damp hair, waiting for them in the living area, flipping through channels on the large screen TV. John got to his feet with what Cam was sure was John's 'I will indulge the natives' look.

Cam clapped his hands together. 'How about you guys order breakfast and I'll go shower?' He didn't wait for them to answer but made his escape.

He dove into his room, stripping his clothes quickly as he made his way into the adjoining bathroom. He stood under the rush of hot water for a full minute, letting the warmth of it ease out the aches in his muscles before he hurried through the rest of the shower and a quick shave. He figured John was unhappy enough with him for inviting the guy to breakfast without adding leaving them alone for a long time to the crime.

Cam dried off with haste and dressed in jeans and a blue Air Force t-shirt. Twenty-five minutes had passed. He walked back into the living area and blinked.

A waiter was finishing laying out the breakfast on the small dining table. Analyst Guy was already seated in one of the chairs, a happy expectant look on his face. John had taken the chair on the opposite side. He signed the bill and slipped the waiter a tip. Cam smiled at the exiting waiter and took the empty seat at the table between the two men.

'Wow, this looks great.' Cam murmured as he took off the metal cover and looked down at the waffles, eggs and bacon.

John waved at their guest. 'Stan here recommended it.'

 _Stan._ Their NID analyst had a name.

Stan smiled shyly. 'I want to thank you for the invitation.'

'No problem.' John said. He slid a look in Cam's direction and raised an eyebrow. Yes, John was not happy at Cam's unilateral decision.

'Still, I interrupted your leave and…' Stan blushes, 'and probably worried you for no reason, and I am sorry about that.'

John slid the rack over to Stan. 'Toast?'

Cam hastily swallowed his bacon and reached for the coffee pot. 'Like I said downstairs, you were only trying to help us, right?'

'That's right, although as Agent Barrett pointed out, I might not have exactly gone about it in the right way.' Stan sighed. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and waved a large hand at them. 'I thought…well, it didn't matter what I thought.'

Cam gestured. 'We disagree.'

Stan was surprised enough to stop eating.

'We're very interested in what you discovered.' Cam expanded mildly, aiming to keep things casual. He smiled to take the sting out of revealing his real reason for inviting Stan to breakfast.

'Call us curious.' John added and popped a piece of bread into his mouth. His posture suggested he was enjoying a lazy holiday breakfast but Cam recognised it for the illusion it was; he also knew that John knew why Cam invited the guy to breakfast and was on board.

Stan took another bite of his food and nodded. 'You know how it works right?'

'Vaguely.' John said, cutting up his bacon and gesturing with the knife. 'Why don't you explain it?'

'Our operatives and Homeworld's are obviously tracking and infiltrating Trust and Alliance networks. They gather audio or text intelligence and send it to my team. Well, I say my team, I mean the team I work with; they're not really _my_ team.'

'So, you get the intelligence…' Cam encouraged gently, sipping his coffee.

'And we look for patterns, for watch words, for names obviously, that kind of thing.' Stan continued. He broke off to drink down some orange juice.

'Like a giant puzzle.' John offered.

'Exactly.' Stan beamed at him. 'You get one piece of information in one place and another some way else but it's finding what goes with what that's the hard part.' He began eating again, swiping a large chunk of bacon through the split brilliant yellow yolk of his egg. 'Anyway, as you probably both know your names are on the watch list.'

'Because of our relative positions.' Cam contributed. He cleared his plate and sat back with his coffee, trying not to rush Stan into getting to the point.

'Exactly.' Stan shoved more food in his mouth, chews fast and swallowed. 'You, Colonel Mitchell, are often mentioned by the Lucien Alliance although rarely by the Trust.'

John shot Cam an inquiring look.

'I've tangled with the Alliance a couple of times.' Cam said modestly. He was saving the story of his undercover work for when he needed the flight time.

John smiled as though he understood exactly what Cam was thinking and picked up his coffee. Stan coughed discreetly and they both turned their attention back to him.

'Now usually we didn't hear much chatter about you, Colonel Sheppard. Both the Trust and the Lucien Alliance have placed Atlantis on their to-do list but it's not a priority, and the Trust has been smarting for a while about their last plan to blow up the city not working.'

'Well, I know I feel better.' John said sarcastically, over the rim of his coffee cup.

'We do know Sheppard International have been a target for the Trust in the last couple of years.' Stan continued.

John tensed and Cam sat forward to draw Stan's attention away from him.

'Oh?' Cam murmured.

'Control of major corporations has always been their strategy.' Stan pushed his clean plate away and picked up his juice. 'If they control the money, they control the power.'

'And they want control of Sheppard International?' John checked. His tone was lazy and he slouched back in his chair but Cam wasn't fooled. John was the equivalent of a panther playing possum with the oblivious prey which had stumbled into its midst.

'Of course, they never achieved it while your father was alive.' Stan answered. 'He wouldn't give up ownership of the company and he had a very good security team.'

'And now?' John pressed and Cam knew he was thinking about the rumbling Dave mentioned at breakfast the previous day.

Stan finally picked up on John's unease and hurried to reply. 'Well, we think your father's will was designed to ensure control would remain with your family, but also to provide your brother with the added protection of your, uh, involvement. We're fairly certain that your father was aware there was a threat.'

Cam got it. Dave could never be swayed by the Trust as long as he's reliant on John for control, and he could never be threatened into complying with the Trust without attracting the attention of John who had the weight of the Air Force and the SGC behind him. He wondered if Patrick Sheppard did it to protect the company or to protect his youngest son. He feared from the expression that flitted across John's face that he knew which John believed.

'The company remains a target but it is more difficult for them to acquire control.' Stan patted his lips with his napkin. 'Anyway, the chatter I heard isn't the usual.'

Cam's reminded of why Stan was eating with them. 'In what way?'

'It's like the Trust and the Alliance are talking to each other about you both.' Stan blurted out.

Cam and John exchanged a concerned look.

'What do you mean?' John asked.

'Well, the SGC informed us, you were travelling together so I wasn't surprised when I saw both your names mentioned together in a Trust communiqué on SG personnel movements with a notation beside your names indicating your first location, here.' Stan explained. 'But then I saw the exact same phrase crop up in an Alliance discussion and again, they had your location.'

'And that's unusual?' Cam checked. 'For the same thing to crop up?'

'Not really,' Stan admitted with a sigh, 'it's quite usual for the same intelligence to appear although not with the same speed.'

'You said the exact same phrase appeared.' John stated thoughtfully.

Stan nodded approvingly as though John had answered a question correctly. Cam was a beat behind in understanding. The exact same phrase indicated a single source, or a common language for discussion. Stan was right; it possibly indicated that the Trust and the Lucien Alliance were talking to each other about him and John, or that one was used as the source for the other. And that freaked Cam out more than he wanted to admit.

'It's one single phrase; five words; same notation on location.' Stan recited. 'Which was why everyone else believes that it's not enough to make a determination of any collusion or potential threat.'

Yet.

The word hung silently over the table.

John smiled grimly. 'Well, we appreciate the heads-up, Stan.'

'No problem.' Stan grinned widely.

John got to his feet and Stan belatedly realised it was a signal for him to get to his. Cam followed them to the door, listening in amusement at John's patter that he was sure Stan understood but that they need to get moving for the day and they didn't want to keep him from his work. Just before the door, John moved to a side-table and scrawled his cell number on a pad of paper. He ripped it off and handed it to Stan with one hand even as the other opened the suite door to usher Stan out.

'If you see anything else, don't hesitate to call.' John smiled at Stan as charmingly as he had done at the ladies after their run.

Stan blushed and took the number. 'Thank you.'

Cam shook Stan's hand, thanked him again and a moment later the door was closed.

'I need to call Dave.' John said shortly. He whirled back into the living room, grabbed his cell from the coffee table and dialled. He greeted his brother as he headed into the privacy of his bedroom.

Cam checked the clock, winced as he calculated the time difference and called Sam anyway. He updated her briskly. Sam acknowledged the issue and promised again to check everything out herself. She grumbled at her second early wake-up call of the day but he could hear the sleep clearing from her voice and knew she would be on the case when she got to the SGC.

John came back out as Cam snapped his phone shut.

'OK?' Cam asked.

John nodded and slumped onto the sofa. 'I don't think he took me seriously.' He shrugged and looked away. Cam figured that John was trying to work out how to protect his brother without giving away the Stargate programme. 'You call Sam?'

'Yeah,' Cam sighed and folded his arms across his chest as he perched on the arm of the sofa at the opposite end from where John was sitting. 'She's going to do some digging.'

'What do you think?' John asked, pinning Cam with a frank, open stare.

'I could see why Stan's superiors thought he was overreacting; one phrase, just our location, no stated threat.' Cam thought it through out loud. 'Can't say I'm thrilled at the idea of the Trust and the Alliance having the same source but that's preferable to them beginning to work together.'

'You want to go off the grid?' John made the suggestion casually.

Cam had no doubt that John could make them disappear. He'd seen John's file once, kind of by accident, but Cam remembered enough to remember the huge swathes of blacked out information that spoke of secret and classified missions. He suspected John was Special Forces before he ended up in Antarctica, but Cam was not asking and he knew well enough that John would never tell.

'Plan B?' Cam replied. He was willing to wait on Sam and see what her verdict was. Plus if there was a threat, the SGC would take them off the grid officially.

John nodded slowly but Cam thought maybe John would prefer to go off grid immediately.

'You sure?' Cam checked. Because it was their vacation not a mission and he wanted John to enjoy it, not to feel like he had to be checking over their shoulders constantly.

There was a long pause and Cam was beginning to wonder if it was a good sign that John was taking the time to consider their options or not when John gave a decisive nod.

'Plan B.' John cast a look at the clock. 'And we really should get moving.' He was on his feet and headed to the bedroom before Cam could say anything else.

Cam made his way to his own room and started packing but his mind drifted back to the intelligence chatter. He hoped they were doing the right thing; that Stan's assumption that it was a sign of tangible threat against them was nothing more than an overreaction. He thought about how John's first instinct was to take them off the grid and mused over the fact that John had some damn good instincts and maybe they should be listening to them more.

He stood holding his spare jeans in his hands and continuing to debate with himself when John rapped on the open door behind him.

'Ready?' John raised his eyebrows as Cam gestured with his jeans.

'Maybe we should go off the grid.' Cam blurted out.

John rested a shoulder on the jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. 'What brought this on?'

'Thinking.' Cam muttered.

'Dangerous.' John smirked. 'Me too. I mean with the thinking.'

'And?' Cam stuffed the jeans into his duffle along with his toiletries kit.

'I think we should stick to our original plan.' John said, surprising him.

Cam looked over at him quizzically.

'Look, my first instinct is always to go off the grid.' John admitted, gesturing at him awkwardly. 'Which got me thinking what if someone was expecting that?'

'You think we're being set-up.' Cam realised, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. It made sense in a bizarre way; the relatively innocuous chatter, Stan's decision to tail them which someone had to realise they would notice, the conversation with Stan…

'Truth is we don't know what's going on.' John shrugged loosely. 'But if we are being set-up seems like a good idea to do the opposite of what they're hoping we'll do.'

The amused resignation in John's voice spoke to his belief that they were being set-up as though it was inevitable. Cam thought out loud that they should probably call Sam and get her to check out Stan.

'Already did.' John said.

Cam sighed. With John's request for Stan to be checked out, they'd done as much as they could for the day and Cam had been looking forward to flying since he won the story competition the day before.

He pushed off the bed and grabbed his duffle. 'Well, we have a flight to Panama City to make,' he declared, 'of which I have sixty-five per cent of the flight time so we should get going.' He grinned at John.

John eased off the door frame. 'I'll be flying it tomorrow.'

'That sounds like fighting talk.' Cam joked.

John lifted up his own duffle and simply smirked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

And Cam was suddenly more determined than ever to make sure the threat of impending doom didn't ruin their holiday. They both needed the downtime too much.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a testament to her strange working patterns that no-one blinked an eye at Sam turning up at the SGC way before her working day was supposed to start. She was tempted to blame Malcolm and would for form's sake because he was NID, no matter how much their friendship mitigated the organisation he worked for, but it was the second call from Cam that had her climbing out of a comfortable bed, and the third call from John that her deciding to head straight for the SGC rather than choosing to stay at home and work.

She'd long since gotten over sitting in the large leather chair in Landry's office. Her year in Atlantis had given her confidence in her command abilities and it no longer felt like she was a child playing at being a grown-up. She sank into the leather with a grateful sigh and booted up her laptop. A gate technician – Andrea – brought her coffee and asked if she wanted something from the mess. Sam requested the Danish she liked and more coffee. She started work impatiently.

The email with the latest chatter that had caused the ruckus was in her inbox along with a non-apology from Malcolm. It took her less than a moment to understand why Stan had deduced it deserved attention. The Trust and the Alliance both had the same intelligence in the same format using the same code.

That wasn't good.

She sucked in a breath and stared at the screen. She swore silently and creatively at Malcolm and the NID. Dismissing Stanley Kymbol's conclusions that the data was nothing more than a coincidence was short-sighted. The implications given the timing of the data and the phrasing of the code were clear: there was either a single source or a joint operation at play. The thought of the Trust and the Alliance working together sent a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers tapped restlessly against the wood. She'd tangled with both organisations enough in the past that she was fully aware of how ruthless each could be; she could hear the mental echo of a shot that killed a man she had deeply respected, feel the phantom touch of binds around her wrist that kept her prisoner while thousands of Jaffa died slowly thanks to a poison delivered through a stolenStargate.

The two organisations working together to some end involving Cam and John was not something she wanted to truly contemplate. She nodded a thank you to Andrea delivering her make-shift breakfast and reached for the coffee first.

Sam hoped it wasn't a joint operation; hoped that it was a single source that was feeding the two organisations because she wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was a coincidence like the guys at the NID. A single source would be easier to track down and simpler to deal with. Another thought occurred to her; that it might be a third party wanting to redirect attention. She rolled her eyes. It wasn't like they didn't have enough bad guys already. They were still picking up the pieces from the Wraith attack. The Lucien Alliance was gearing up for war. The Trust was a continual pain in the ass. Did she really _want_ to create some unknown other entity too? But she knew it wasn't a question of creating; it was a question of exploring – and eliminating – the possibilities.

She started her information search on Stanley. She stayed legal on the first sweep, using the access she was granted into federal systems with the care and respect that everyone would expect of Samantha Carter, a decorated Colonel in the United States Air Force and the temporary commander of the SGC.

She found out Stanley went to MIT; he had a degree in Advanced Mathematics and Cryptography. He was in the top three of his class. He had a driving license. He owned a small one-bed apartment in Washington. He came from a small town in Iowa where his parents and two sisters continued to live. He'd worked for the NID since graduation. His employment history showed a solid performer, good at his job, but not one who garnered attention. That he bought a ticket at the airport and flew to Jacksonville one hour after finding the data, informing his superiors and being told to forget about it, was out of character but there was nothing in his immediate information to suggest a cause. He'd bought another ticket barely fifteen minutes before and would be back in Washington before the end of the day. His bank accounts showed no unusual amounts or movement; his credit cards revealed his purchases and his hobbies. He looked normal on the surface.

She started digging.

Her second sweep was not legal, and one that only a few people in her life would not only expect her to perform but anticipate that she would. She hacked into federal systems and databases that she didn't have access to without a second thought. She made mincemeat of the university's firewalls and security to uncover Stanley's academic record and his buried university email account. She plundered Stanley's bank records back to the moment he opened his account. When the server the credit card company used gave up its secrets with barely a murmur, it made her seriously consider changing brands.

Everything came up blank.

Normal.

An hour after arriving at the SGC, Sam concluded that Stan was a patsy. She called Malcolm and suggested the NID might want to escort Stan home and ask him who he's trying to impress because Stan would never have gotten on the plane to Jacksonville if someone hadn't encouraged him; Sam was sure of that. She quickly wrote some code to interrogate the systems for information on Stan's known associates to see if she could track down who had set him up.

While it performed its job, Sam ate her Danish and went to work on the personal favour John asked of her when he'd called: examining everything about the Trust's interest in Sheppard International.

Half-way through her study of the intelligence and Sam had already concluded that there was more than enough data to warrant John's concern. The report from the main NID agent assigned to watch the company had noted that Patrick Sheppard had been fully aware of the Trust. The agent had posited that Sheppard had refused to allow the Trust a foothold in his organisation because of control issues rather than any objection on moral grounds to the Trust's agenda. There was evidence of two known Trust operatives working in the senior management. The agent had noted that Patrick Sheppard was aware of them but David Sheppard's awareness was unclear.

The agent – a Veronica Klass – was meticulous in a way that Sam appreciated. Klass had investigated Patrick Sheppard's death and found, despite the suddenness of it, that there was no evidence of foul play. She had noted the surprise of John's inheritance given the estrangement, the supposition that Patrick Sheppard was attempting to ensure the Trust could not control his company from beyond the grave. Sam wondered whether John realised that if his brother was to die, Dave's shares would automatically revert to John under the terms of his father's will. Klass had concluded that the Trust could not simply remove David Sheppard.

There were more notes on John's gift of the proxy to his brother; that Dave Sheppard actually controlled his brother's inheritance and was doing a damn good job of making John a multi-millionaire. Sam bit her lip, knowing John would hate her knowing the detail, and moved on. By the end of her reading, she was concerned enough to agree to John's veiled demand that she had someone from the Stargate programme talk to his brother about the Trust. Klass was of the same opinion, noting in one report that whatever protection Patrick Sheppard thought he was providing for his company and younger son, John was not seen as a visible threat to the Trust. Dave Sheppard was vulnerable. He had a wife and two kids that the Trust could use. He had full control of the company thanks to John's proxy. Of course, Klass's last report detailed the surprising news that John's return to Earth and plans to attend the board meeting with his brother could potentially change the Trust's opinion.

It might explain why the Trust was seeking intelligence on John's whereabouts; why they might want to snatch him, Sam mused. She sat back and laced her hands over her belly as she contemplated everything.

Her phone rang.

She picked up with a glance to see how the search through the systems was going. Still compiling. 'Carter.'

'I have agents with Kymbol at the airport in Jacksonville.' Malcolm said by way of greeting. He sounded pissed but Sam knew his ire wasn't for her but for his organisation dropping the ball.

'OK.' Sam said waiting for the other shoe to drop.

'Can you get the Odyssey to beam me to them?' Malcolm requested politely. 'I want to follow up on this personally.'

His involvement was the only apology the SGC – that she, Cam and John – would get. Her laptop beeped at her and she tugged it closer, reviewing the information laid out neatly with a grim smile.

'Sam?' Malcolm's impatient prompt reminded her that he was waiting for her response.

'Will do. And Malcolm?' Sam stopped him from hanging up with the use of his name. 'You should ask Stanley about Gina Lovell.'

'Lovell?' Malcolm repeated the name back to her. 'She's been part of his team for almost a year.'

'Yeah, and she died in 1989.' Sam said succinctly. 'There's a newspaper report they evidently didn't track down and delete. The birth dates match. They obviously stole this woman's identity and created another one.' She paused. 'According to their credit cards, she and Stan have been having lunch for the last six months.'

'Shit.' Malcolm snapped out because he knew what that meant; the Trust had had someone in the NID for almost a year. Who knew what intelligence had distorted; what operations lost because of Gina Lovell. 'I'll get back to you later.'

'You'd better.' Sam hung up on him before he could. It was a small point of one-upmanship but Jack had taught her well. She gave the order for the beaming to the control room to pass onto Colonel Bryant Morrow, the temporary CO of the Odyssey, and thanked God she didn't have to talk the misogynistic prick herself.

The ping of the IM system alerted her to Jack informing her he'd beamed to Nevada. He was on an inspection tour of Area 51 to see how the repairs were going; to call in and check on the wounded in the hospital. Sam called him on a secure line and updated him, going over her plans and getting his input. She had just made a note of the last of Jack's suggestions – and they were suggestions; he trusted her to make the decisions – when she saw Major Paul Davis lurking at the office door with fresh coffee and more Danish.

She waved him in, said goodbye to Jack and was surprised to realise that it was almost time for her working day to start in earnest. She updated Paul first over the working breakfast he'd obtained.

Paul was a programme veteran; a skilled politician; loyal to the Air Force, to the programme, and since George Hammond's death, to Jack as the Head of Homeworld Security. Jack had loaned her Paul when Landry had taken Walter with him on his super-secret mission.

Sam finally came to a halt and requested his input. Paul had once outranked her but his desk job, no matter how vital and important, had seen her outstrip him professionally. His experience with Earth based conspiracies far outweighed her own though and she was sincere in wanting his advice.

Paul brushed the crumbs of his Danish from his fingers with a napkin as he considered his response. 'There's not much we can do about the NID issue.' He began. 'We're very lucky this situation uncovered Lovell or whoever she was.'

'And Agent Barrett will discover the extent of that damage now he's aware of it.' Sam agreed.

'Which leaves us with two issues,' Paul said, leaning forward in the visitor chair, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. 'Firstly, there's the issue of whether Colonels Sheppard and Mitchell were the focus of a joint operation, and then secondly, there's the issue of Sheppard International and the Trust.'

'I'd like you to handle the latter.' Sam informed him briskly. 'You could beam to Washington this morning, brief David Sheppard and go over his security arrangements.'

Paul nodded. 'I met Patrick Sheppard once.'

Sam stayed silent and waited. Paul only went off at a tandem if it was relevant.

'White House function. Black tie thing.' Paul said. 'Just after the Atlantis team came back to debrief after the first year.' His eyes went distant; presumably seeing into the past, the whirl of perfumed women and penguin men; classical music and babble competing under the roof of the White House. 'I must have been five steps behind him when the President greeted him like an old friend and said he must be proud of John's promotion; that obviously with the classified work John was involved in he couldn't say much more but that Sheppard Senior should know that the President and the Pentagon appreciated how many lives John had saved in the past year.' He lifted a hand. 'Of course, I knew the truth that the Major as he was then and his father hadn't talked in months.'

Sam shifted in the leather. John hadn't told her; not even when she'd broken the news of his father's death. She'd suspected the truth of it though; her own brother and father had been estranged for too many years for her not to recognise the signs in someone else.

'Anyway, Sheppard thanks the President, puffs up proudly and immediately started lobbying for something for his company.' Paul tapped his fingers against the folder of information on Sheppard International on the desk. 'That old man knew how to turn a situation to his advantage.'

And Sam got where Paul was going with his story. 'You think Patrick Sheppard's will together with the threat from the Trust was meant to encourage John to leave the Air Force and join the business.'

'I think Patrick Sheppard counted on the Colonel wanting to protect his younger brother.' Paul's lips twisted with disgust. 'He was a piece of work.'

'Well, I'm fairly certain Patrick Sheppard never anticipated that the military would support John in ensuring his brother's safety.' Sam said brightly. John was too important to Atlantis for them to lose him; even Landry who wasn't John's biggest fan – the unauthorised mission in the stolen puddle jumper that saved Jack, Woolsey and Atlantis was still a sore subject – conceded that.

Paul nodded again. 'I'll take care of it.' He tilted his head. 'Do you think the Trust and the Lucien Alliance are working together?'

'I'm not sure they are.' Sam sighed. 'If John's right, and I'm inclined to say he is, why risk revealing Gina now? Something about this doesn't make sense to me. I mean, until two days ago, Cam and John hadn't even planned to be on vacation together.' She screwed up her face as she tried to work out what's going on with minimal information and sleep.

'This Gina person's been in place for a long time, right? Maybe whoever was behind this had something else planned.' Paul suggested.

'In which case, Cam's probably the target.' Sam said thoughtfully.

It made sense; he was the one situated usually in the Milky Way and the plan had obviously been in track for a long time. If it was true, she was prepared to narrow the list of potential suspects to the Lucien Alliance who absolutely hated Cam rather than the Trust, and…oh God, just how stupid had she been?

'Damn!' She lurched out of her chair and paced, throwing an accusing finger back at her laptop. 'Gina. Gina set it up to make the Trust and the Lucien Alliance look as though they're in collusion. She set it all up.'

'Yes, ma'am.' Paul looked at her as though he was worried she'd lost it.

Sam took a breath and sat back down. 'I think I'm right.'

'I agree.' Paul stated firmly. 'Colonel Mitchell would have been scheduled to be on his honeymoon over the next two weeks. I'm guessing they planned to grab him and his fiancée during that time.'

Because people left a newly-wed couple alone on their honeymoon. There was no expectation of check-ins or friendly chats or even postcards. People expected them to be off having sex and a good time. It would have been a perfect opportunity to grab Cam. Plus if they'd grabbed Amy too, they would have had the advantage of using his new wife to keep him in line. She said as much out loud.

'It must have thrown their plans completely when they realised that not only had Colonel Mitchell called off his wedding but he'd elected to go on vacation with another highly trained Air Force Colonel. And let's not forget that flying means they have to log where they're travelling constantly.' Paul's eyes glinted with amusement.

Sam's own lips twitch. She hoped it sucked big time when the Alliance realised their careful months of planning were shot to hell. 'It definitely explains why they tried to force them into going off-grid. It lessens the prospect of immediate back-up.'

'Are we leaving the Colonels out in the open?' Paul asked bluntly.

Sam clasped her hands on the desk before answering, because ultimately that was the big question wasn't it? Did she recall them now they know – well, could reasonably surmise – that there was a threat?

'I need to discuss it with General O'Neill and Mister Woolsey at my usual check-ins this morning.' Sam said. 'But,' she sat back, 'I'd prefer to give them some options.' She didn't say that she thought both men needed the time away to get their heads straight.

Cam had been unhappy for months. She'd noticed it more since her return from Atlantis but looking back she wondered if the first sign hadn't been his unusual quietness at her going-to-Atlantis party. He'd waved away her concern at the time, saying that he was sad at her departure…

' _I should have known that they'd break up the band again.' Cam had drawled._

But it wasn't just Cam that Sam was worried about. She let her mind drift to John. If she had to make a guess at his state of mind, he was bone tired underneath the military mask he wore; worn by the losses and grieving. She remembered how it felt. She'd been lucky when she'd hit that patch; there had been the end of one war and she'd gone to R&D. She knew John well enough to know that he wouldn't walk away from Atlantis, Pegasus and the war with the Wraith; he wouldn't take the time he needed.

'I take it option one is that we bring them in?' Paul asked, interrupting her musing.

Sam nodded. 'Option two is to take them off grid as far as the civil authorities were concerned.' She tapped her notebook. 'They use military bases, log their flight plans through us and we could coordinate with the civilian air authorities as we usually do for military hops.'

Paul frowned. 'Or option three; they remain out in the open.'

'They're not a hundred per cent safe that way; it's easier for them to be targeted but, on the other hand, they're using private airfields and accommodation with good security, and we also have the advantage of knowing where they were.' Sam admitted. 'And the Alliance taking them on while they're in the air will be risky given it's their natural habitat.'

Paul smiled at that.

She thought Cam and John would go for option three. They were fighter pilots; risk-takers. She intended to have radios beamed to their next destination so they could request immediate beam outs to Odyssey; it was a slim protection but it was what she could offer.

'I think I have a working theory on why they might have wanted Colonel Mitchell in these particular two weeks.' Paul adds. 'But it's classified. I'll need to talk with General Landry.'

Sam frowned but nodded. She glanced at the clock and Paul stood; their time was up and the SGC was about to shift into its day mode.

Paul nodded. 'With your permission?'

Sam dismissed him. She closed down her searches and backtracked out of the systems, careful to clean-up after herself and leave no trace. She'd brief Cam and John when they got to Panama City. She organised her thoughts and called in the duty Sergeant to make the necessary changes to her schedule.

It had already been a long day but it was only going to get longer.


	8. Chapter 8

'I turned into a bug.' It wasn't the first time John had said that particular statement since the story-telling had turned into the discussion over who had won. John was very confident he was the winner. It had taken Mitchell an hour to think of something, and his bug story of IOA delegates and Lucien Alliance experiments getting loose was nowhere near the same league as John's experience.

John slipped his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and took a look around the Sheppard hangar they'd taxied into. He didn't relax until his eyes had skimmed the perimeter and found nothing suspicious. It was a hangar. There was the usual welcoming committee of a couple of old mechanics who had waved them in and pointed at where to park and who were making loving, cooing noises over the beauty of his plane. There was a mess of tools and equipment stowed off to the sides and the walls. Along one wall, there was a series of doors which would undoubtedly lead to an office, lockers, shower rooms and toilets; maybe a small kitchenette.

'The bugs ate people.' Mitchell continued to argue but John noted that his fellow Colonel was doing a perimeter check of his own. Neither of them was as blasé as they were making out over the whole Stan incident.

'Firstly,' John said, 'ewww, and secondly: I turned into a bug.'

'Aw, come on. The bugs almost ate Woolsey!' Mitchell's eyes were twinkling.

'Now, if they _had_ eaten Woolsey or any of the IOA delegates, I might have been willing to give you extra points,' John shot back lightly, grinning at him, 'but even then: I turned into a bug.'

'Fine.' Mitchell abruptly capitulated, throwing his hands up. 'You turned into a bug. You win.'

John let his grin widen.

Mitchell rolled his shoulders and stretched as far as he could in the cramped cockpit. John began the climb out between the seats and stopped as Mitchell tapped his arm.

'Speak of the devil – isn't that Woolsey?' Mitchell pointed to the wall of doors, one of which was open and filled with the familiar form of John's latest expedition leader.

He and Mitchell exchanged a look that said 'oh shit,' because they both knew that Woolsey being there could not be a good thing.

They hustled out of the plane, leaving their bags. They took a moment to confer with the mechanics. John waved away their Mister Sheppards with a terse 'call me John' which resulted in them calling him 'Mister John;' they all agreed Maggie was the best thing ever, and finally he and Mitchell made their way over to Woolsey who was waiting remarkably patiently.

'Gentlemen.' Woolsey greeted them calmly. He was starting to relax his dress code but despite the ambient warmth, he wore pressed grey pants with a button down blue Oxford shirt. His concession to the heat was presumably to have left off the tie. 'Shall we?' He indicated the office behind him.

Fred Billing, the airfield manager was a forty-something former Marine Sergeant who snapped to attention as soon as Mitchell and John entered the room.

'Colonels.' Billing vibrated with the urge to salute. His gaze slid from John, to Mitchell, to Woolsey and back.

John faked a smile and asked to borrow the room.

'Of course, Colonel.' Billing escaped with more haste than grace.

John sat on the edge of Billing's immaculate desk, Mitchell leaned on the wall and Woolsey took the plastic visitor's chair. The first thing Woolsey did was place a small silver object on the desk. John recognised it as a jamming device. They wouldn't be overheard by any electronic means.

Woolsey leaned back in the visitor chair looking surprisingly comfortable and at ease. 'Colonel Carter, Generals O'Neill and Landry, and I have agreed I would be the best to brief you both.'

John was pretty sure he knew what Rodney's reaction to that would have been. His eyes flickered towards Mitchell momentarily and they shared an amused look.

'So, brief.' John waved at Woolsey to get on with it.

'Colonel Carter has gone over the NID information. We're reasonably certain that there was a plot to kidnap Colonel Mitchell on his anticipated honeymoon that was put into motion many months ago.'

Mitchell lurched off the wall and, hands on hips, glared at Woolsey. 'What?'

Woolsey continued unperturbed by Mitchell's reaction. 'Our best guess was that with the cancellation of your wedding and the impromptu vacation with Colonel Sheppard here, the Alliance was prompted into trying to force you into a vulnerable position another way to ensure the success of their original plan.'

Mitchell looked pole-axed. John didn't blame him.

'Colonel Carter believes the most likely suspect wanting to kidnap you is the Lucien Alliance. We know they had an agent installed in the NID intelligence analysis team to ensure that all intelligence related to that plot was conveniently lost before we could be alerted to it.' Woolsey said.

'Stan?' John asked, thinking he didn't think the geeky guy they'd had breakfast with had it in him.

'No,' Woolsey admitted, 'a woman who began working there almost a year ago. Agent Barrett has debriefed Stanley Kymbol and, combined with Colonel Carter's background check, we're assured that Kymbol was a stooge. The young woman, on the other hand, has a false id and Kymbol has admitted that she befriended him some months back, and that she was the one who encouraged him to follow you to Jacksonville.'

'She was playing him.' Mitchell bit out.

John figured Mitchell felt as bad for Stan as he did. His mind leaped ahead. 'Let me guess who didn't turn up for work today.'

'She's disappeared.' Woolsey confirmed.

'Fantastic.' Mitchell whirled and paced away to the window overlooking the airstrip, a hand at the back of his head.

'Kymbol has also confirmed though that she was the one who brought the coincidence of the Trust and Alliance messages to his attention. We believe that she created one or altered one to make it look like the two organisations could be in collusion. We're tracking down the original sources just to be certain.' Woolsey added.

'Finally, some good news.' John murmured.

Mitchell snorted.

'I'm afraid that's it.' Woolsey said almost apologetically. His gaze shifted to Mitchell. 'We've taken the liberty of placing your ex-fiancée under protective surveillance and Miss Mal Doran is visiting with your parents for a while with Teyla.'

John frowned a little at the mention of Teyla.

Woolsey smiled understandingly. 'I believe Teyla regards it as an opportunity to learn more about Earth culture.'

Mitchell breathed out and nodded sharply. 'That's good of them.'

'Which leaves us with the question of what to do with _you_.'

John's head snapped up but Woolsey's attention had returned to Mitchell. John got why: it was Mitchell who was the target.

Mitchell turned to look at Woolsey. The easy going guy who John was just joking about bugs with was gone; the serious Colonel stood in his place.

'I'm being recalled?' Mitchell asked bluntly.

It wasn't unexpected, the thought that they could be had been lurking in John's head ever since breakfast and Stan, but John had hoped not. He was almost overwhelmed by the rush of disappointment that followed the idea that they might have to abandon their holiday – because if Mitchell was grounded then so was John. And John was suddenly aware of how much he needed the vacation; Mitchell's easy company, the flying, the freedom from his responsibilities. He tried to hide his reaction, staring down at the floor and rubbing the back of his own neck lightly.

Woolsey rested his elbows on the thin arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. 'While that would be the prudent thing to do, Colonel Carter was keen for you to have options.'

John was mildly amused. He was struck again by the differences between Woolsey's leadership style and Sam's. In the weeks following Sam's recall and Woolsey's appointment, practically every decision Woolsey had made had been followed with the same moment of comparison. It wasn't that John didn't like or appreciate that Woolsey was a good guy underneath the bureaucratic bluster; it was just that Woolsey would never be John's first choice for leader of the expedition. Neither was Sam truthfully. Unfortunately John's actual first choice, Elizabeth, was dead. He ignored the usual nudge of guilt that accompanied the thought.

'So what were the options?' John asked impatiently.

Woolsey sighed. 'Option one is to bring you both in. Option two is to take you officially off-grid; you continue your vacation via military bases and accommodation with flight plans logged via the SGC. Option three is for you to continue with your current vacation plan but to change your current flight plan every few days to make it less predictable where you may be going. Option four is option three with the addition of Ronon and Teal'c joining you.' He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small box. 'I brought these in case option two, three or four appeal.'

John took the box and opened it. Two familiar earpieces were revealed and John lifted one up to show Mitchell.

'The Odyssey is in orbit.' Woolsey said dryly. 'If there's any trouble, you could request an immediate beam-out although obviously we would prefer you to keep the exposure limited rather than using that facility in the middle of a crowded area.'

John dropped the earpiece back in the box, another thought occurring to him. 'Can Atlantis keep tabs on our bio-signatures with the long range sensors?'

Woolsey smiled. 'Doctor McKay had the same thought; he was working on it when I left.'

'So, if we stay out in the open, just change up our plans every few days, we should be relatively safe from being abducted without anyone knowing about it.' John mused out loud, trying not to sound too hopeful.

'And we have back-up if anyone tries to abduct me.' Mitchell added, pointing at the box.

They looked at each other and the decision was made in a heartbeat.

'I thought that's what your decision would be.' Woolsey sounded amused. 'Are you certain you don't want to reconsider adding two more to your party?'

John gave that serious thought because Ronon and Teal'c were both good to have around in a crisis; strong, fierce and, most importantly, silent. But he wasn't the one who had initiated the vacation and he couldn't help remembering that Mitchell hadn't asked for a member of his own team to accompany him. John figured Mitchell was still less than comfortable with the idea of having others along since he was frowning.

'Why don't we see how the next couple of days goes?' John suggested casually, crossing his arms over his chest. 'See if the Alliance tries again? They may give up now they've been rumbled.'

Woolsey looked sceptical and John couldn't really blame him, but Mitchell nodded with gratitude in his eyes.

'One more thing,' Woolsey said, evidently they'd been working together for long enough for Woolsey to anticipate John's next question would be were-they-done, 'Colonel Carter also looked into the matter of the Trust and your company.'

'And?' John asked tersely, tensing up so fast he could feel the snap in his muscles.

'Your father was definitely aware of the Trust. We're aware that there are two Trust operatives in senior management positions. As Kymbol indicated to you, we believe the terms of your father's will are designed to mitigate against the possibility of the Trust gaining control of the company through your brother in some way. Obviously, apart from the usual blackmail and brainwashing, there is the possibility of a Goa'uld implantation.'

'He has my proxy.' Strangely, Woolsey's dry lawyer-ish style calmed John. There was a gut clench of hurt but it wasn't as though John didn't know deep down that his inheritance was another attempt at control rather than a belated expression of some pride or paternal love. 'Hell, Dave has my power of attorney over the inheritance. He could sell my shares to himself at any time.'

'And had the Trust moved to take advantage of that before now, they might have gotten away it. As a lawyer, I would advise leaving him the proxy but ending the power of attorney. It will offer you both some protection in the circumstances.' Woolsey noted in the same dry tone. He glanced at his watch. 'Major Davis should be finished briefing with your brother by now.'

John nodded unhappily.

Woolsey stood. 'Well, if you're both certain about remaining on vacation…'

Mitchell's eyebrows rose steadily up his forehead at the teasing tone.

John simply rolled his eyes and smiled. 'Thanks for coming, Richard.'

Woolsey picked up his briefcase, left the jamming device, and was on his way with manly handshakes all round. John walked over to Mitchell and watched Woolsey get into a waiting Air Force car which pulled away immediately. Both of them squinted to see if they could detect when Woolsey got beamed away but the car was out of sight before there was a tell-tale flash.

There was a sharp knock at the door and John moved swiftly to pick up the jamming device and pocket it as he called for whoever it was to enter.

Billing poked his head around the door and smiled apologetically. He held aloft his cell phone. 'Mister Sheppard is on the phone for you.'

Mitchell patted his shoulder. 'I'll take care of the bags.' He left before John could say anything.

John took the cell and Billing retreated, leaving John alone in the strangely tidy office. He lifted the phone to his ear. 'Hey.'

'Is this real?' Dave asked bluntly. 'Because if this is one of your elaborate practical jokes…'

'No joke.' John snapped out. He took a breath and told himself not to be hurt by the lack of trust. Their relationship was a work in progress and he could hear the panic under Dave's ice. His brother was scared; he needed to cut him some slack. He took another deep breath and walked back over to the window, needing to see the sky. 'I promise on Mom's grave; no joke.'

Dave breathed out heavily enough for the sound to travel across the connection. 'Shit.'

It was as good a summary of the situation as anything else, John thought, wearily.

'Dad really was an asshole, wasn't he?' Dave continued. 'I'm sorry, John.'

Something cracked in John; that his brother had stopped defending their father's actions; had accepted that there was no gift of paternal love and acceptance in John's inheritance suddenly seemed devastating to John for a moment. Tears threatened and John closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the smooth cool windowpane.

'And I fell for it, didn't I?' Dave said bitterly. 'I wouldn't let you out of your inheritance and kept you tied to the company just as he knew I would. And I can't even regret it because if I'd done what you'd wanted I'd had made myself a target for these Trust guys! He didn't tell me what these guys were capable of! He made it sound like they were the usual business sharks! How could he not tell me how dangerous they were when Heather and the kids are at risk and…' he stopped abruptly.

The moments ticked by long enough that John wondered if Dave was still on the other end of the phone.

'I have to protect my wife and kids.' Dave said eventually.

John nodded before he realised that Dave couldn't see him.

'I have to keep you tied to the company and you're going to stay tied, aren't you, now you know there's a possibility we're in danger.' Dave continued. 'I'm sorry.' He laughed but there was no humour in it and John winced. 'And there I go again saying sorry, as though that's going to make up for Dad counting on you saving me again.'

John straightened, confused. 'What do you mean by that?'

There was a pregnant pause.

'You saved me instead of Mom. It was my fault she died. If I hadn't been in the car…'

The words slapped into John painfully and his hand was rubbing away at his brow as though he could erase them. They'd never talked about their Mom's death; never talked about John saving Dave's life that day or their father's reaction.

'Dave…' John didn't know how to begin. 'It's…that's…' he tried to regain his breath, 'Dave, it's not…it was _never_ your fault.' It was John's. He hadn't been fast enough, smart enough.

'John,' Dave sighed heavily, 'I know you blamed me.'

The accusation was almost a relief and John embraced the anger it sparked enthusiastically. 'I never blamed you!' He denied vehemently.

'You couldn't look at me!' Dave shot back furiously. 'You hardly spoke to me! Don't tell me you didn't blame me!'

'I was eleven years old and blaming _myself_ for not saving her, Dave.' John interrupted angrily, not caring about what he was saying; what he was revealing. 'What the hell did you want from me?'

The painful silence was almost unbearable.

John tried to force the memories out of his head; the feelings out of the way; to focus on the mission – the problem. 'Look, we need to…' he gestured at the window helplessly, unsure how he finished that sentence.

'Do you have someone else who could act as your proxy and power of attorney?' Dave asked sharply.

'You keep the proxy,' John said firmly. 'You need to retain it otherwise they'll use that to usurp your position.'

'What about the power of attorney?' Dave pressed.

John thought. He would suggest Nancy but he didn't want to place her in danger either. He caught sight of Mitchell loading their rental car through the window. The other man was based on Earth; he was military and aware of the Trust. He was certain Mitchell would agree to take on the power of attorney. 'I'll ask Mitchell.'

'I'll get one of our company attorneys to your apartment within the hour.' Dave agreed.

'Thank you.' John said politely. 'What about your security?'

'I'll be increasing security, of course. Major Davis has offered some suggestions.' Dave informed him crisply.

John rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'Good.'

'Are you…' Dave paused momentarily, 'will you still be attending the board meeting?'

'I said I would, didn't I?' John said tersely.

'OK. So I'll meet you in San Francisco as discussed to arrange the details?' Dave replied.

'Yeah.' John wanted to end the call; wanted to forget everything that had said.

'John…' Dave sighed, 'it was never your fault either.' He hung up before John could reply.

For a second, John had to fight the urge to hurl the cell phone against a wall. But it wasn't his and he ended up tossing it fairly gently back onto the desk. He paced back and forth before he yanked out his own phone and stabbed at the on button, barely waiting for it to confirm it had a signal before hitting the speed dial he'd programmed.

'Tell me you've got the sensors working on picking up our bio-signatures.' He growled as soon as his call was answered.

'Hello to you too,' Rodney replied snappily, 'and no, not yet. There are adjustments, sensitive adjustments that have to be made before they'll scan wider than the city or just outside of it.'

'How long?'

'How long?' Rodney repeated, sounding outraged. 'Why do you always asked me that? You're going to be asking me to pluck a number from mid-air next, aren't you? Because that would just be typical of you and…'

John considered that he might have gone insane because Rodney's rant was calming him down. It must be a Pavlovian thing, John thought. Because when they're in danger and John's blood was rushing hot, Rodney's predilection for ranting meant John had to cool down; he had to be the sane one telling Rodney to focus and get the job done so Rodney could save their asses. John slumped against the desk and decided freaking-out because his subconscious had turned Rodney and his rants into the adult equivalent of a security blanket could wait for another day.

'John?'

The slightly panicked use of his name yanked John back to the present. 'I'm here.'

'That's debatable.' Rodney remarked but it was without his usual bite. 'Uh, are you OK? You seem kind of…'

'I'm…' John's throat closed up on the lie. He wasn't OK. He was pissed. He was sad. He was half a dozen emotions he couldn't even identify and all of them were making it difficult for him to breathe. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. 'My Dad was an asshole.' The blunt truth of saying it out loud made him feel better.

'Whose wasn't?' Rodney said. 'We should get together and compare notes one night when you're back. We can get disgustingly drunk on that stuff you like to call beer.'

John found himself laughing and, maybe it was a touch hysterical but he'd take it. 'You bring the beer then.'

'When do I have time to buy beer?' Rodney shot back. He paused. 'Woolsey said you said no to Ronon and Teal'c?'

'We'll be OK.' John said, avoiding the truth that it wasn't truly his decision to make, and there was a very large part of him which wouldn't have minded having them tag along. 'I'd feel better if you could get the sensors working and could keep track of where we are.'

'Huh.' Rodney said. 'Me too. You know if you give me the plane registration…'

'Then you'd know where the plane is, Rodney; not us.'

'That's…actually a good point.'

John laughed again and he opened his eyes. 'Oh, hey; the bug story worked like a dream.'

'Hah!' Rodney had never been shy about gloating. 'Gold! Didn't I tell you?'

John glanced out of the window again and saw Mitchell lounging against their rental. There was nothing impatient about his stance but John felt guilty for leaving him out there alone. 'Gotta go.'

'Check in again tomorrow?' Rodney said with a touch of wistful hopefulness that John couldn't bring himself to squash like he usually would in the normal rhythm of their snarking.

'Tomorrow, Rodney.' John disconnected the call, rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath, burying his conversation with Dave, the revelations of guilt and blame, somewhere inside of himself. He'd deal with it when he was alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Cam was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. He'd had this dream a lot.

 _He was aboard the Odyssey in the Ori galaxy. The ship was under attack from Replicators inside and from the Ori outside. He hoped Sam could find the shutdown code and destroy the Replicators before they took complete control of the ship; hoped Daniel, Teal'c and Vala had found the damn Ark to take care of the Ori before they blew the Odyssey and her crew all to hell. In the meantime, he headed out to face down the Replicator Queen._

 _The corridors were dark and his footsteps were loud no matter how lightly he tried to tread. He'd left men to guard the Asgard core, had crew trapped all over the ship. He was alone. Surgical strike, he told himself; stupid reckless heroics, his inner Bryce shot back. He had a bomb in his hand; the distraction Sam had requested all prepared and ready to go. He could do this._

 _But there was a monster stood in the corridor. Cam could already feel his heart beating faster; the anticipation of pain and hurt._

 _The fight was brutal._

 _Hard floor, hard punches, hard walls. He could taste blood in his mouth, heavy and metallic. He knew he had cracked ribs. He was bruised everywhere. He was almost certain he'd wrenched his knee and sprained an ankle. But his finger was pressing down on the detonation button and there was heat and force and…_

Cam came out of the dream between one breath and the next, a strangled scream caught in his throat. He was covered in sweat despite the air-conditioning; his body tangled into a knot with the sheet. He fought himself free, sat on the edge of his bed in his boxers and dog-tags. He reached shakily for the bottle of water he had on the bedside table. It took three goes before he got the plastic top off. He threw the cap across the room toward the waste basket in the corner and didn't watch it miss. He chugged back half of the bottle before rolling his head slowly, trying to ease the tension out of his neck muscles.

He shivered. A reaction to the chilled room and the sweat cooling on his body, he rationalised. It was nothing to do with his nightmare.

It wasn't even the worst of his regular nightmares. He had a list in his head, neatly categorised in order. Firing on a truck of refugees because of bad intelligence was at the top of the list; freezing to death trapped in a crashed 302 in the wasteland of Antarctica followed it. Losing Bryce came next – both the accident and the Godawful week before Bryce's death; the Replicator beating limped in a poor fifth.

He knew what had triggered it; the bug story. The Replicators weren't bugs but they looked like them. He had a clear memory of the spider and insect like metal creations the Replicators built converging on him when he'd been beaten and couldn't move.

At least, he hadn't turned into a bug. He shivered again.

Cam set the bottle down on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. He got up and padded across the room to the window. They were on the outskirts of the city in an exclusive apartment block where all the rooms had a fantastic view of the ocean. He looked out, separating the ground from the ocean, his eyes making out the gentle swell of waves in the darkness.

Maybe it was weird but the Lucien Alliance didn't feature all that much in his nightmares, Cam thought idly. He crossed his arms over his naked chest, and felt the cold press of metal from his dog-tags against his arm. He'd had his run-ins with them. Of all of them, Teal'c's experiences had been the worst – the Jaffa had spent multiple times in their torture chambers. Sam's were probably next given her experience when the Alliance had briefly taken control of the Odyssey and killed the then commander Paul Emerson. Cam had been undercover a few times but he'd always come out on top. The only time Cam had truly felt threatened by them if he was honest was when he'd stared down a bounty hunter in the middle of his high school reunion. Maybe after the revelations of their plot to abduct him he should reconsider that, Cam mused seriously. He was kind of awestruck and horrified to be at the centre of such focused planning.

A smile lifted his lips.

He would have loved to have seen the look on their faces when they'd realised all that planning was worthless; that Cam wasn't getting married, wasn't going on honeymoon, wasn't disappearing handily for a couple of weeks so they could kidnap, torture and brainwash him.

But Cam knew he wasn't out of the woods. He knew the Alliance. They didn't give up easily especially when they'd invested so much. In some respects, he knew that Woolsey was right; it would be more prudent for him to be recalled. He was pleased Sam had insisted they were given options; pleased John had agreed to stay with the original plan although he figured John wouldn't have minded having Ronon and Teal'c join them for extra back-up.

He tensed, frustrated at the way his whole being shied away from the idea of having others join them. He was being stupid. He knew that. He and John were trained but if the Alliance came in force without back-up on the ground, they'd need the emergency beam-out.

Which they had, Cam thought confidently. He was not completely stupid or reckless. And John's idea of Atlantis tracking them was a good contingency plan. Even so…Cam couldn't quite convince himself that he shouldn't just get over himself and agree to Ronon and Teal'c.

But.

But he didn't want to.

Cam lurched away from the window and pulled on his jeans. He padded out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the open plan room that combined the den, kitchen and dining area. There was a wrap-around balcony with sun-loungers but Cam wasn't looking for a better view.

He flicked the large screen TV on, muted the sound immediately and found a sports channel. It was showing ice-skating. Not hockey. Figure skating; some championship event taking place in Europe from the strange language signs that were dotted about the arena on screen. But the looping and jumping were hypnotic and Cam slumped down on the butter-soft leather sofa to watch mindlessly.

Why didn't he want Ronon and Teal'c to join them?

His mind insisted on pressing the issue even though he wanted to switch off and not think about anything. But as it strayed across his thinking one more time, Cam sighed and gave in.

He knew part of it was that he'd enjoyed the last couple of days, Lucien Alliance shenanigans aside. John was easy company; smart, funny, and with enough flying, sport and pop culture knowledge that they'd never run out of things to talk about. Then there was the flying. He smiled at the twinge in his muscles. He loved the flying. He felt free and he didn't want to lose that by adding two bodyguards as a constant reminder of the threat of imminent abduction.

He also knew that it wasn't really anything to do with the two men themselves. True, he didn't really know Ronon but John and Teal'c both held him in high esteem and, from what little he did know, Ronon was a good man to have on their side and he wasn't the type to press for personal conversations and revelations. And Teal'c was Teal'c. He liked Teal'c. Teal'c was his team-mate after all…and right there was the main problem.

Because he didn't want his team-mates around. Just like he hadn't wanted them around at the farm. Just like he hadn't wanted to talk to them for months.

' _There was a reason why Sam didn't talk to us.'_

Daniel's words echoed in his head. Cam pressed his head back into the leather. This would be a lot easier if he knew _why_ he didn't want to talk to his team-mates. He wondered instead about why Sam hadn't talked to the team. He had never talked to her about it, or talked to Daniel or to Teal'c about it either. It was in the past and it was something he was sure Sam didn't want dragged into the light again, but, alone with only the light from the TV screen, Cam gave into the urge to examine it.

Cam knew enough from what had been said in passing and, from what little Sam had said to him personally when she had informed him of her relationship with the General, to know that Sam had broken off her engagement to Pete Shanahan in part because she was in love with O'Neill and had been in love with him for a long while. And that right there, Cam thought, was more than enough reason why she had never spoken to the others about any doubts she'd had about marrying Pete. It had been a complete tangle of regulations and feelings which, if spoken about, would have changed the team regardless of the outcome of the conversation.

It would had been a hell of a risk to take, Cam mused, not only on a personal level but a professional one. There had been a war to fight; a mission. Just like Cam, Sam had taken an oath to put country before self. She couldn't risk the mission by changing her team dynamic; she had chosen instead to remain silent about her doubts, about her feelings, until the universe had given her a break and ended the war, allowing her the chance to breathe and speak out.

Sam's reasons for not talking to the team were a complex cauldron of duty, of honour, of fear in knowing that to speak would be the equivalent of throwing a rock in a pond that would create ripples of change that she couldn't control.

Something about that last thought felt familiar, recognisable. Cam wondered if that was what was underneath his own reticence. Was he afraid to throw a stone and create ripples? And if so, what stone had he been planning to throw if he'd talked with his team? And what ripples did he think it would create?

 _What was he afraid of?_

He frowned at the TV screen as he pondered the question. He started when John threw open the door of the den and walked in, stumbling to an abrupt halt at the sight of Cam.

John was dressed in sleepwear; black t-shirt over sweatpants. His dark hair was stuck-up; his hazel eyes a little wild; his face was white under the shadow of his beard and the embarrassed flush darkening his cheeks.

Cam lifted a hand from his chest and gave a brief wave. Obviously he wasn't the only one having nightmares.

'I, uh, need some air.' John said, moving again swiftly to the outer door. He was through and onto the balcony before Cam could speak.

For a long moment, Cam stayed sunk into the leather of the sofa and not inclined to move. He wasn't John's keeper no matter that some of his motivation for asking John to come along on the trip had been to help John as much as himself. But as his eyes tracked back to the balcony, Cam could see the way John was braced, his body a tense curve as he lowered his head to his clasped hands on top of the metal railing.

Cam slowly stood, grimacing as his body creaked in protest. He stretched and walked over to the kitchen. He poured a carton of milk into a saucepan and set it on the stove to heat. He wasn't too surprised that John was having nightmares. John may not had found out that he was the target of a Lucien Alliance plot, but the threat of the Trust endangering John's brother and his family was real enough.

He remembered hearing John's raised voice through the office door and quietly shooing the airfield manager and the mechanics further into the hangar, distracting them with the plane. He shook his head at the memory of spending an hour that evening signing a document that said in John's absence, he'd be his power of attorney. He'd been a little alarmed that the bank accounts and stock portfolios he was looking after for John were valued in millions.

'Talk to Dave.' John had said when Cam had expressed some concern. 'He'll tell you what to do.'

Cam poured the milk into ceramic mugs and stopped by the bar at the back of the den to add a generous measure of whiskey into both. He headed out onto the balcony. The air was cool and his skin broke out in goose-bumps. He held out one mug to John.

'Here.'

John looked over his shoulder at him, took in the mug and straightened. 'Warm milk?'

'My Mom swears by it.' Cam said, walking forward to stand beside John at the railing. The air was so heavy with salt, Cam could almost taste it. He breathed in, and felt a breeze brush across his skin.

John took a sip and coughed, spluttering through it until he regained his breath. Cam didn't hide his grin when John shot a pissed look at him.

'And the whiskey?' John asked with a roughened voice.

'My own addition.' Cam admitted. 'I'm not sure Mom would approve.' He rested one foot on the lower railing and stared out into the night sky. The stars were almost obscured by cloud but he could see the odd one or two peeking out.

John took another cautious sip and rested his hip against the metal barrier.

'Nightmare?' Cam asked casually.

John grimaced, a wry twist of his lips. 'There's a reason I don't usually tell the bug story.'

Cam nodded and swallowed down some of the laced milk.

'You?' John said tentatively.

Cam lifted a shoulder in answer. 'There's a bug story I didn't tell.'

John's face settled into understanding lines, his body relaxing into a fluid slouch. 'We're a pair, aren't we?'

The dry comment brought a smile to Cam's face. 'It's part of the job.'

He was certain anyone who served in the programme had nightmares; knew his team did. Off-world, alone in tents, it wasn't easy to hide when someone woke up, screaming or breathless; when someone slept moaning and restless. He was used to Daniel's firm hand on his shoulder, waking him up or steadying him back to sleep; used to Teal'c calming Daniel with soothing low tones, or Vala cuddling into Teal'c as though he was nothing more than a Jaffa-shaped teddy-bear, or Daniel drying Vala's tears. Cam knew he was second string most of the time. Daniel and Teal'c had known each other longer; Vala always wanted Daniel; Teal'c for some reason accepted that Sam had told Vala to take care of him.

'They really don't pay us enough.' John complained dryly.

Cam smiled because he knew neither of them was in it for the money. He drank his milk. He hadn't considered the consequences of his Get Sheppard Talking plan beyond his thought that it could help Sheppard talk without really talking. 'Maybe the story-telling isn't such a good idea.'

John shrugged. 'If it hadn't been that nightmare, it would have been something else.'

It was a startlingly honest comment that Cam wasn't expecting.

John glanced over at him, saw his surprise and raised his mug. 'It's been something of an information-packed day.'

Right.

'How are you doing with the whole company-Trust thing?' Cam asked, staring into the milky depths of his mug.

'Oh, you know,' John made a sweeping gesture with his mug which encompassed the view in front of them.

'That good, huh?' Cam said when John didn't say anything else.

'Better.' John quipped with a quirk of his eyebrows as he drained the last of his drink. He looked across at him. 'Uh, how were you doing with the whole kidnap plot-Alliance thing?'

Cam's lips twitched. 'Oh, you know.' He parroted back.

John smiled ruefully. 'That good, huh?'

'Better.' Cam completed the exchange.

It felt good when they both laughed.

'Actually, I'm surprisingly OK with the Alliance thing.' Cam admitted, changing positions as his left leg ached. 'Just…I'm worried about my folks.'

'You get hold of them earlier?' John asked, turning around to lean back against the railing.

Cam nodded. 'I talked to my Dad. He's more worried about Vala and Teyla than about him and Mom.'

'Teyla can take care of herself.' John confirmed. 'She beats up Ronon eight out of ten times.'

'And Vala's wily.' Cam said proudly.

'Like Wile E Coyote?' John teased.

Cam straightened. 'Like the Roadrunner.'

'Ah.' John looked down at his empty mug. 'Speaking of being wily, should you even be out on the balcony?'

Cam shrugged. 'They want me alive not dead.' He reached across and hit John lightly on the shoulder. 'And I didn't invite you on this trip to be my bodyguard so…'

'So, don't suggest that it might be wise for us to keep to the buddy system for the rest of the vacation?' John shot back undeterred.

Cam was not easily stirred to anger but there was a flicker of it in his gut; enough to know that maybe he wasn't quite as sangfroid about everything as he'd been telling himself since it had taken John less than five seconds to find the sore spot and to poke at most effectively. He resisted the urge to stalk inside and downed the rest of his milk, feeling the welcome burn of the whiskey.

'Look, I know how much this sucks,' John said, eyes averted as he gestured at him, 'and, honestly, I'm really not, uh, comfortable being the sensible one.'

Cam sighed. 'Maybe I've gotten too comfortable being the sensible one.'

And that was possibly more honest than Cam had meant to be; he'd surprised himself. It was weird because he'd never truly considered himself the sensible one in the team. If anything, Jaffa revenge aside, he assigned that role to Teal'c. But he was chagrined to realise that the last time he had given into his reckless side had been his decision to go off searching for the Replicator Queen alone, and before that…he'd _had_ to be the sensible one in between Vala attempting to prove she belonged on SG1, Daniel going all Merlin on them, Sam getting lost in alternate universes, and Teal'c indulging his Jaffa revenge gig. He wasn't sure what that meant, if it meant anything.

John was looking at him and Cam was glad of the dark; he hoped it hid the flush suffusing his cheeks.

'I get that this,' John gestured expansively again, 'was supposed to be about flying and getting away from,' he searched for a word, 'responsibility,' he settled on eventually, 'but…' his voice trailed away.

'But.' Cam repeated softly. He turned away; back to the view. Because he knew that 'but' stood for 'Lucien Alliance' and 'threat on his life' and 'placing John in danger too.' That 'but' meant he _should_ be sensible. He should acquiesce to Ronon and Teal'c; should make sure he wasn't alone to be grabbed at any moment. He didn't _want_ to be sensible but there was more at stake here than him. He shoved away from the railing. 'You'll call Woolsey in the morning and get him to send Ronon and Teal'c?'

'Send Ronon and Teal'c where?' John sounded confused.

Cam's eyes snapped in John's direction, an angry retort on his lips which died the instant he realised that John _was_ confused. Cam folded his arms around his torso, his left hand wrapped around his right bicep.

'I thought…isn't Ronon and Teal'c joining us the sensible thing to do?' Cam said quietly.

John's confusion dissipated rapidly; amusement sweeping over his face in its wake. 'I was talking about being sensible not _sensible_.'

That should have made no sense whatsoever but strangely Cam understood him.

'I mean, if you want to be _that_ sensible, we could head for the nearest military base and give up on the vacation completely.'

And Cam rolled his eyes at John's mocking, letting go of some of the tension that knotted up his muscles. 'So, what are you suggesting?'

John scratched his shoulder idly. 'That we're sensible within the parameters of the mission.'

Cam's lips twitched at that. 'Parameters being…'

'We're on vacation and we're flying.' John listed out crisply.

'And the being sensible part?' Cam pressed.

John tilted his head and kept his eyes on Cam. 'We change up the flight plan every couple of days like we agreed with Richard. We start wearing the earpieces. Rodney tracks us in Atlantis.' He paused. 'You don't go anywhere alone.'

Cam chafed at the last part and he knew John knew that he chafed at that last part. 'This…' he struggled to put into words what he thought; what he felt, 'I just…this is your leave. I don't want you to feel obligated or responsible for me.'

'Mitchell,' John drawled tiredly, 'you agreed to be my power of attorney to help me out. I think I can cope with being your wingman while _we_ are on leave.'

John looked as if he'd rather swallow nails than continue the conversation.

'Aren't you going to get sick of me?' Cam asked, not completely willing to concede out loud yet although he knew he would.

'I think I can handle it.' John said easily. There was a challenge in John's eyes; could Cam handle it?

'Fine.' Cam huffed out.

'Great,' John said forcefully, 'now can we please go back to where I'm not being the sensible one?'

Cam cocked his head and smirked at John. 'Think of it as being good practice. You have eagles now. People will expect you to be the sensible one.'

John looked suitably horrified.

'And talking of which…' Cam pointed with his empty mug toward the inside. He patted John's shoulder as he walked past him and back into the den. He stowed his mug in the kitchen sink and ended up back in the den. The TV was still on and Cam stretched out on the sofa.

He heard John come in and the click as the lock on the balcony door slid home. He wasn't really all that surprised when John drifted into the kitchen and began to clean up. Two days of vacation had already revealed John as a neat-freak. Some of it, Cam thought, was military; they'd been trained into square corners, tidy lockers and everything in its place. Of course, for some guys, it meant that they rebelled the instant they got space which wasn't military-owned, left their underwear on the floor and dirty dishes stacking up until they ran out of them. Bryce had been like that. Before their vacation, Cam would have guessed John would have been the same but he wasn't. John _liked_ order. Cam was mildly amused by it given John's reputation as a maverick.

He fixed his gaze on the skating –seriously, was a body meant to twist that way? – and let himself drift, the sound of water running a weirdly domestic counterpoint in the background.

'Hey,' Cam called out, remembering John's confusion over Ronon and Teal'c, 'where did you think I meant to send Ronon and Teal'c?'

The water stopped and John walked back to the archway separating the den from the kitchen units. He was drying his hands on a towel. 'I thought you might want to send them to take over the surveillance on your, uh, Amy.'

It actually wasn't a bad idea. Cam would call Sam at a reasonable Colorado hour and suggest it, he decided. He said as much to John.

John settled on the two-seater sofa across from Cam and stretched out. He frowned at the TV. 'Is this… _skating_?'

'It's on the sports channel.' Cam said defensively.

John gave a disbelieving hnmpf but he didn't get up to find the remote. 'I think it would be sensible not to mention that we watched this to anyone.'

Cam silently agreed but for form he threw a cushion. 'See? You're getting the hang of this being sensible thing already.'

John snorted audibly at that.

'Who's the sensible one on your team anyway?' Cam asked, sleepily, and thinking he should know.

'Teyla.' John answered promptly. 'And it's worse now she has the whole Mom thing going for her. We suggest doing something the least bit risky and she mentions Torren. All of us are helpless before her even Rodney.'

There was a lot of fondness and affection in his voice. It warmed Cam; made him think of his own Mom and how sensible she was. There was an old feeling of safety associated with thoughts of his Mom and Cam felt the last tenuous hold of his nightmare slip away. He shifted on the cushions, easing his sore shoulder into a better position and fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam loved being back in Atlantis. It was a bonus that Atlantis was parked in what Sam considered the SGC's back-yard although she knew it wouldn't last for long. She breathed in the ocean air and looked out at the bay of San Francisco.

It felt surreal.

The last time she'd stood on the balcony almost a year before, she'd been contemplating multiple moons and thinking about her trip back to Earth to report to the IOA. At the time she hadn't realised that her trip would be one-way.

It'd been a weird year on a professional level. The Air Force hadn't anticipated her return – the IOA's decision taking them by surprise almost as much as it had taken Sam. She'd been based out of the SGC, sometimes tagging along with SG1 but mostly not because as much as she loved them, it felt too reminiscent of having to go back because of the Ori. But she'd loved having the time to spend in her labs; loved being entrusted with the SGC; loved being given command of the next Earth ship. She missed George Hammond fiercely.

'It's quite a sight, isn't it?' Woolsey said, joining her.

Sam turned and smiled at him; pleased that she could smile at him because for months after Woolsey had taken her job she'd wanted to punch him. 'It is,' she agreed lightly. 'Are we ready for the meeting?'

'Everyone's on their way.' Woolsey informed her. He invited her to lead the way back inside with a sweep of an arm.

Sam headed inside briskly. It amused her in a petty way that, in the very complicated chain of seniority around the Atlantis expedition, as acting SGC CO, she was effectively Woolsey's boss.

They took their seats in the conference room and Sam regarded the old SGC briefing table with bemusement. She waved Woolsey into the seat at the head of the table because being petty in her head was one thing but showing that pettiness was another; she wasn't Rodney after all. She took the seat on Woolsey's right and wasn't surprised when Daniel slid into the seat next to her. Across the table, Rodney took the seat to Woolsey's left, Major Lorne sat next to him and Carson Beckett took the seat next to him covering for Jennifer.

Woolsey cleared his throat and the briefing began. Most of the agenda was around Atlantis's repairs and projected leave date which Rodney covered, going into a level of detail that only Sam appreciated and could understand. Daniel spent the time exchanging sympathetic looks with Lorne while Woolsey desperately tried to pretend he knew what Rodney was talking about it.

Woolsey covered the on-going preparations for departure. Unsurprisingly, he wanted to stock up on as much as they could while they had the benefit of being on Earth and reduced reliance on a wormhole or a spaceship for delivery. There was a brief tussle around what constituted basics and what constituted luxuries, and Sam pointed out dryly that they couldn't expect to clean out the cupboards of the SGC because Thor had done that once and it hadn't gone down well.

They all moved on with relief to discussing personnel. Rodney covered the science division; Carson, the medical, and Lorne gave an update on the military. Sam noted down a couple of things that she'd need to cover in depth with Lorne at their meeting which would follow, and a couple of suggestions for Rodney to consider.

The personnel discussion over, Daniel covered his research and Sam gave them a brief update on Area 51; on the SGC. It left them with the final item on the agenda; John and Cam.

Woolsey went first. 'Doctor McKay, have you made any progress on getting the sensors to track Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Mitchell?'

Rodney looked up from his datapad possibly for the first time in the whole meeting. 'It hasn't been easy but thanks to a brilliant idea that I had,' he jolted, stopped and glared at Carson and Sam figured that the doctor had kicked Rodney under the table, 'which Carson may have helped with in a small way, and hours of reconfiguring the…'

'So that's a yes?' Woolsey asked a tad desperately.

'That's a yes.' Rodney confirmed sourly. 'I've texted Sheppard already although he probably won't get it until they land.'

'Where are they headed today?' Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair as though he's uninterested in the answer.

'Why would I know?' Rodney blusters, although from the way his cheeks were reddening, Sam was sure Rodney did know. It was a suspicion that was all but confirmed when Rodney sat back with a smug smile. 'All I know is that Sheppard is doing most of the flying today.'

Sam was kind of relieved that all of them were looking at Rodney with befuddlement and it wasn't just her, because why Rodney decided to announce _that_ was anybody's guess.

'Oh, come on!' Rodney said. 'The competition?' He pointed to Daniel. 'Sheppard so kicked your guy's ass!'

'There's a competition?' Daniel zeroed in on what was likely the most important information.

'Yes!' Rodney's eyes darted around the gathering. 'With the story-telling about our missions!' His hands fluttered over the table. 'You know!'

Sam put together the disparate nuggets of information. 'John and Cam are competing for flight time with stories?' She took a moment to admire Cam's ingenuity because she knew John well enough to know that he wouldn't have suggested story-telling as a game, and knew Cam well enough to know that he would have suggested a competition for flight time; he was competitive that way.

'Like you didn't know that.' Rodney accused her sharply.

'I didn't.' Sam countered.

'And _I_ certainly didn't know that.' Carson pointed out acerbically.

Sam enjoyed the roll of his accent. She'd met the original Carson when he'd been stationed in Antarctica and again during his brief stint at the SGC when the Ancients had retaken control of Atlantis. He'd reminded her of Janet Fraiser; all warm reassurance and pragmatic competence wrapped around a core of iron will. His clone was the same.

'Neither did I.' Daniel chimed in. There was a disgruntled edge to his words and Sam knew he was annoyed that Rodney had known and he hadn't.

They all glanced at Lorne who shrugged. 'I know nothing.' He said dryly.

'Fine, fine,' Rodney snapped, 'nobody knew but me!' And for a fleeting second, Rodney looked stunned by that revelation before he went red and cast about with his hands, desperately searching for a diversion to hide the fact that he and John were friends who talked to each other.

Sam took pity on him and provided one. 'Mister Woolsey, you spoke with Teal'c?'

'He and Ronon are in place.' Woolsey confirmed. 'Their predecessors had confirmed that Miss Vandenberg has a friend staying over with her and they're remaining in the house. There's no suspicious activity.' He paused. 'I'm still not sure this was the best use of their skills.'

'Teal'c loves stakeouts.' Daniel said by way of an answer.

'Donuts.' Rodney commented.

Daniel's eyes narrowed.

Sam cleared her throat hastily. 'What about Vala and Teyla have we heard from them?'

'Vala called me and I spoke with them both.' Daniel replied. 'They're both fine. No suspicious activity. Teyla seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to explore Earth culture.'

'And again, I have to question whether this was the best use of our resources.' Woolsey said pointedly.

'Oh, please.' Rodney said. 'They're deployed exactly where they should be. It's not like any of them were, oh I didn't know, fixing the city before they left, was it?'

There were times when Sam was grateful for Rodney's brand of honest bluntness.

'There is the question of how long they should be left in place to protect Colonel Mitchell's family.' Lorne said politely. 'Teyla and Ronon are both due to return with us to Pegasus and I'm assuming the SGC can't sustain long term surveillance.'

'I'm given to understand it's only a couple of weeks until the Colonels are back from leave.' Woolsey slid in before Sam could respond.

Sam remembered why she wanted to punch him even if she understood his motives for once; Landry had taken the decision not to explain to Woolsey why the two weeks of the vacation period were critical. She noted the looks Daniel and Rodney were darting at her and she silently cursed their intelligence because she knew they'd started putting things together.

'Which brings me to my original point: if the danger point is the period in which the Colonels are on leave then perhaps the option of recalling them both is something we should reconsider.' Woolsey continued.

'Your preference to recall them is already on record, Mister Woolsey, but we've taken precautions and, at this point, both Generals Landry and O'Neill are agreed, as am I, that it would be best to leave the decision in their hands.' Sam said coolly.

'I agree.' Carson sat forward. 'God knows the Colonel, I mean, our Colonel Sheppard could do with a holiday. And while I don't know Colonel Mitchell all that well, a period of reflection before returning to work after making the kind of decisions he made recently is usually considered a good idea.'

'But is it all that restful knowing they could be abducted by Lucien Alliance thugs at any moment?' Woolsey argued.

'Well, that is a good point.' Carson conceded.

'It won't matter when they're flying.' Lorne commented confidently as only another pilot could.

Sam nodded in agreement. 'From my discussion with Colonel Mitchell this morning, I believe both he and John are comfortable with the concessions they're making in regards to their vacation plans. Unless they decide otherwise, or the situation changes; the decision stands.' She placed her hands flat on the table. 'I believe we're done?'

Woolsey jumped to close out the meeting formally and they all dispersed. Sam followed Lorne to the office he shared with John.

She took the visitor chair across from Lorne's desk and accepted his offer of a cup of coffee. They covered the personnel issues that Sam had noted; training schedules; the issue of boredom which was setting in with Atlantis being parked on Earth and no off-world schedule to adhere to; the promotion ceremony that they've been organising for some of the Atlantis Marines. The latter brought to mind John's response to his own promotion. The first words out of his mouth after a perfunctory 'thank you,' had been 'but what about my people?' Jack had beamed at John for that.

Sam enjoyed Lorne's observations, his logical outlining of problems and equally logical outlining of solutions. He was a good officer. She was looking forward to seeing him made a Lieutenant Colonel in the upcoming promotion ceremony and enjoyed the fact that he didn't know anything about it. She gave advice, told Lorne he was doing a good job and settled back to finish her coffee.

'Permission to ask something, Colonel?' Lorne leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped around a mug like her own.

'Sure.' Sam was curious about what he wanted to know.

'Why are the next two weeks so critical in regards to Colonel Mitchell being abducted by the Lucien Alliance?' Lorne asked bluntly.

He really was a good officer, Sam thought ruefully. 'It's classified.'

'Permission to speak freely…'

She waved her permission before he finished the sentence.

Lorne changed position, shifting forward. 'I'm not all that comfortable having our people out in the field without them having full knowledge of the situation.' He left it unsaid that they were all putting their lives at risk.

Sam sighed because it was a valid point. It wasn't her decision though; she'd been overruled and that smarted but there was a chain of command and unless there was a really compelling reason – saving Earth, the galaxy, someone's life – she wasn't an advocate of disobeying orders.

'At the moment, knowing the complete picture doesn't change the immediate threat.' Sam said out loud, giving Lorne the line Landry had given her. 'If the situation changes, then we'll reconsider.' She tried to convey calm and authority in the same way she'd seen Hammond do for years.

Lorne nodded but his eyes gave away his continued unhappiness. He did his best though to set it aside and leaned back again. 'I have to admit I'm a bit envious of the Colonels' vacation.'

Sam swallowed the last of the coffee appreciatively and gave a murmur of agreement. She and Jack had already discussed changing out a week at the cabin for a week flying together in their somewhat nebulous vacation plans. She set the mug down. 'Are you taking some leave yourself, Evan?'

'The Colonel and I have agreed a week of handover and then I'll take some leave.' Lorne informed her. 'I have family in San Francisco so…'

That he was so close but couldn't visit them must feel a little bit like torture, Sam considered. She smiled sympathetically but there wasn't a great deal she could do to alleviate his situation. 'Well, I should go and check in with Daniel.'

Lorne got to his feet. 'You need an escort to the lab, ma'am?'

'I'll be fine, Major.' Sam said. 'You're doing a good job here.'

He smiled at the praise and remained standing 'at ease' as she left. Her walk through Atlantis brought back memories of the short year she'd spent with the expedition. She hadn't wanted Atlantis originally; she'd been looking forward to time with Jack and Cassie, and not having a big bad guy to fight since the Lucien Alliance and the Trust at the time had been less of a threat. But she'd been unable to say no to the opportunity and, once she'd gotten past feeling she was babysitting the city for Elizabeth Weir, she'd enjoyed her command.

Janus's lab was squirreled away and it took her a while to get her bearings but she walked through the wall and into the lab with a wry smile. Something that cool never got old.

Daniel was immersed and didn't even look up. He stared at a monitor and made notations in his journal. The Marine guarding him nodded to Sam and they silently agreed for him to leave for a thirty minute break without saying a word.

Sam sat down on an empty stool and scooted up next to Daniel. 'Hey.'

'Hey.' Daniel said absently before her presence registered fully in his mind and he took a second look at her. 'I mean, hey.'

Sam smiled understandingly. 'Interesting?'

'Fascinating.' Daniel launched into an explanation and Sam listened to it patiently, occasionally asking questions but mostly enjoying getting to hear Daniel be Daniel. He eventually wound down and stopped abruptly in mid-sentence on a device that might, or more probably might not, be the answer to the big bang. He stared at her for so long Sam started to worry that she had something on her face.

'What?'

'Nothing, it's just…' Daniel lifted a shoulder and wrinkled his nose at her, 'whenever I thought about coming to Atlantis, I mean before we understood where it was even, this was what I thought about. You know,' he gave a small smile and a hand wave to go with it, 'you and I talking about the discoveries we'd made in some secret lab that we'd found.'

Her lips curved upwards. 'With Jack playing with something he shouldn't in the background and Teal'c guarding the door?'

Daniel nodded.

'Yeah,' Sam sighed wistfully, 'me too.' She looked around again and shook her head. 'I spent my first three months here wishing you guys were with me.'

He nudged her shoulder with his. 'We missed you too.'

Sam nudged him back. She checked her watch. They had another ten minutes before the Marine was due to show up again and she had to find Rodney.

'Did you really not know about the story-telling competition?' Daniel asked suddenly.

Sam glanced at him. Daniel was studiously looking back at the monitor. 'Yes,' she said, 'I really didn't know.'

'Mitchell didn't tell you?' Daniel checked, flicking a look in her direction.

'I think his mind was on other things like the possibility of getting kidnapped.' Sam said dryly.

'Right.' Daniel sighed.

Sam sat back and regarded Daniel thoughtfully. There was a line between his brows; a frown twisting his lips. 'You're mad because Rodney knew about the story-telling and you didn't.'

Daniel winced at her perfect summation of his state of mind. 'Not mad exactly.' He crossed his arm over his chest, sending the blue BDU shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt askew. 'He isn't talking to us.'

Sam knew the 'he' in question wasn't Rodney. 'Just because Cam isn't talking to us, it doesn't mean that he doesn't value our friendship.'

Daniel's eyebrows inched towards his hairline. 'Teal'c gave you the same speech too, huh?'

'Oh, yeah.' Sam sighed. 'He reminded me that I didn't exactly talk to you guys about, uh, Pete either.'

'Hmmm.' Daniel's eyes narrowed on her. 'Why didn't you talk to us?' He made a whirly gesture. 'I mean apart from the obvious?'

Sam squirmed and stood up. She paced a couple of steps away and back as she considered what to say; how much to say. It had never been an easy topic of conversation either before or after she and Jack had stopped dancing around their feelings for each other. 'Change.' She crossed her arms over her chest. 'I knew if I ever talked about everything, it would change the team.' She smiled tightly. 'It's the same reason Jack never talked about it either.'

'You think Cam's scared of talking to us because he thinks things might change with the team if he does?' Daniel asked.

'I don't know.' Sam said. 'I only know why _I_ didn't talk to you guys. I don't honestly know why Cam isn't talking to us.'

Daniel sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up his nose. 'I guess we should be grateful he's talking to Sheppard.'

Sam nodded in agreement.

'And Vala said he's checking in with his family so that's got to be a good sign, right?' Daniel continued.

Sam stepped up and hugged him. 'He'll work it out.'

Daniel hugged her back. 'I kind of miss him.'

'Me too.' Sam murmured.

'Does this mean you're going to tell me what's up with the two week deal?' Daniel asked.

Sam huffed a breath of laughter into his ear. 'No, but feel free to bug Jack about it.'

They were still hugging when the Marine came back. Sam smiled at the Marine's embarrassment, kissed Daniel's cheek, and told him that she'd call him later to discuss Janus's theory of inter-dimensional time-travel.

She headed for McKay's lab.

Rodney was frantically discussing something with Radek Zelenka. The two men were exchanging insults along with ideas in every breath. The rhythm of it had her all nostalgic for her time on Atlantis again and she lounged in the doorway, content to watch them.

Radek spotted her first and flushed. Rodney picked up on the direction of his look.

'What?' He snapped, whirling around, nostrils flaring with annoyance.

'Nice to see you too, Rodney.' Sam said brightly, entering the lab. She smiled more gently at Zelenka. 'Radek.'

'Colonel Carter. It is…good to see you. I should go check the progress on the systems on the South pier now we have solution, yes?' Radek didn't wait for an answer but picked up a datapad, darted around Sam and out of the door.

Rodney turned back to the two laptops he had running in front of him. 'Sorry, but I don't have time for social calls. Busy, busy.'

Sam hummed her agreement and sat down on a stool next to him. 'Have you thought of Doctor Levinsk for the open geologist position?'

'Levinsk?' Rodney didn't look up; he continued to tap away on the keyboard of one of the laptops. 'He's Stanford, right? The one with the insane ideas about Yellowstone? Didn't he get kicked out of some Think Tank? And when was the last time he published anything?'

'Last year,' Sam said dryly, 'he had two articles published in…'

'Yes, yes, OK.' Rodney harrumphed. 'Maybe he's not a complete waste of space.'

'So…'

'I'll think about it.' Rodney moved to the second laptop and started coding something in Ancient.

Sam tapped her fingers lightly on the top of the bench. 'You also have an engineering position open.'

'Who?' Rodney asked caustically.

'I was thinking of Doctor Novak.' Sam slid in, trying for a casual tone.

Rodney stopped and stared at her.

'Novak?' Rodney frowned heavily. 'Isn't she permanently assigned to the Odyssey because of the Asgard core?'

'She's…' Sam spread her hands out in a supplicating gesture, 'having difficulties with the new CO.'

'Difficulties?' Rodney stilled.

'He's a misogynistic prick. Won't listen to anything she tells him.' Sam said succinctly. 'Although you didn't hear that from me.'

'You think _I'm_ a misogynist prick.' Rodney waved at himself.

Sam let her smile spread across her face. 'You _were_ a misogynist prick, Rodney, but you've grown. You have respectful relationships with women that aren't all about sex. I have it on good authority that you cuddle.'

Rodney looked horrified. 'Jennifer would never…'

Sam simply smiled. Rodney was right; Jennifer would never be so indiscreet about their relationship but it was just too much fun to tease McKay.

'Take that back!'

'Too late, McKay.' Sam grinned at him. 'Your secret's out.'

Rodney glared at her. If his blue eyes were weapons, she would be dead. Her grin widened.

'Anyway, even before your growth,' Sam made air quotes with her fingers, 'you generally didn't dismiss ideas because they came from somebody with breasts and a vagina,' she pointed out, 'you dismissed them because they were, in your opinion, stupid and wrong and in disagreement with your own opinion.'

Rodney waved his hands about his eyes. 'Gagh! I'm not talking about breasts and vaginas with you.'

Sam felt a rush of delight at the horror in his eyes. She'd had to be good the year she had been on Atlantis because she had been his boss but winding up Rodney was fun and she enjoyed it. 'So, Novak?'

'Will you stop talking about breasts and vaginas?' Rodney demanded.

'I could do that.' Sam promised calmly, pleased that she'd gotten her way.

'OK, so I'll request Novak. She's not useless and it makes sense anyway to do some cross dissemination of information thing between her Asgard knowledge and our Ancient.' Rodney muttered. 'Now if that's everything…'

Sam perched her elbows on the bench, propped up her head on her hands and regarded him thoughtfully. 'So how are you tracking the plane?'

Rodney fidgeted, looked down at the laptop and pressed some buttons. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'I'm guessing there's a laptop set-up,' her eyes flickered to the one in the corner that Rodney had purposefully not looked at the whole time she'd been in the lab, 'hacked into air control? Woolsey probably gave you the registration. I assume there's some kind of alarm should the plane deviate substantially from its flight plan?'

Rodney rounded on her, his arms flailing around like windmills. 'Like you don't have something set-up too!'

She sniffed. 'I don't need to,' she waited a beat, 'I knew you'd do it.'

Rodney's mouth fell open slightly before he snapped it back shut. He pointed at her. 'I hate you.'

Sam smiled, eased off the stool and headed for the door. 'Rodney?'

'What? Aren't you gone yet?'

There was a hint of desperation in his voice that made Sam gleeful. She really could be as petty as Rodney at times.

'If you're thinking of hacking into my account or Cam's account to discover why these two weeks are an important window for the Lucien Alliance to kidnap Cam, you should know only General Landry has that information.' Sam smirked at Rodney's startled expression.

He knew that she knew that he was going to hack the information. She knew that he knew that she had just told him where to look. She was under orders not to tell the guys the full picture but Rodney could and, besides, she preferred to keep him out of her own files.

Sam sauntered out of the lab and back to Stargate Operations to say a polite goodbye to Woolsey, feeling satisfied. Her work on Atlantis was done for the day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part 3: Turbulence**

John collapsed onto the hard wooden seat at the small table he and Mitchell had appropriated in the bar and reached for his beer. He was breathless from dancing with a very athletic brunette with a very pretty smile. Mitchell smirked at him from behind his own tankard of amber liquid. John had been inveigled into dancing by a matronly woman who could have been his grandmother before being passed off on the dance floor to the younger crowd. The attempt at match-making was obvious enough that even John could see it. Mitchell had gotten out of it by rubbing his knee and claiming an old injury. John thought that it might not be just an excuse.

'She's cute.' Mitchell commented, waving in the direction of the gaggle of women over in the far corner where John had escorted the brunette after declining to dance for a fifth time.

'She's in love with Billy Ray,' John lifted a hand from his beer, 'or Billy Bob or something. But he's cheated on her with her best friend, Amber or Jade or something. She's looking to make Billy Whoever jealous; I told her she should find someone else.'

Mitchell spluttered with laughter. 'You made that up.'

John shook his head and smiled. 'Go ahead; dance with her; she'll tell you the same thing.' He took a long swallow of his beer and settled back, surprised to find that he was relaxed and having fun. He looked around. The bar was country – not surprising since they were in Texas, Clancyville to be exact. It had been his mother's hometown and Sheppard International owned the place pretty much.

He and Mitchell had originally been scheduled to fly to Houston after New Orleans but since they'd needed to change up the flight plan, Mitchell had suggested the ranch in Clancyville after spotting it on the list of properties John owned. The other man took his responsibility of holding John's power of attorney seriously.

It was a good suggestion. Clancyville was in the middle of nowhere; secure; the town was ten miles down the road from the ranch and small enough that strangers got noticed. The bar had even paused for a moment of silence when he and Mitchell had walked in. They hadn't looked at each other for fear of laughing.

It had been Mitchell who had suggested heading out to a bar instead of staying at the ranch. John had readily agreed. They knew they had to be careful with the threat of the Lucien Alliance hanging over their heads but they'd gone places and done things anyway; walking the line between being sensible and being _sensible_.

John thought he'd suggest riding in the morning instead of their usual run. He wanted to check out the stables and the stock; talk to the manager, Jeff Hart. He'd been oblivious that his father had actually kept the ranch, assigning Hart to run it and run it well; the ranch was making money raising horses for cattle-work and rodeo. It was a sprawl of a place; ten bedrooms each with their own bath, two dens, games room, two formal rooms, a huge kitchen, and a library. It had been in his mother's family since the West had opened up; John's heart had kind of stuttered when Mitchell had pointed it out on the list of assets because, maybe, just maybe it was something that John actually wanted.

He remembered when his mother had been alive how they'd spend a week every winter and a week every summer out at the ranch visiting with his grandparents until they'd both died; his grandmother when he'd been eight and his grandfather only a year later. John had loved every minute of every stay; the horses, the wide open spaces, freedom from his father who never came with them. His father had never sent them after his mother's death, and it seemed better to forget than mourn something as nebulous as a place. And then there had college, the Air Force, Atlantis.

John was already thinking that he could make the ranch his home for the rare occasions he was back on Earth. He'd sold his apartment in San Francisco before taking the Atlantis position and he didn't have another place; his stuff was in storage. He'd probably need to look into a better communication system for when Rodney visited, because listening to the litany of complaints about no Internet and how was a civilised person expected to live that way would get old very quickly, but he thought Ronon and Teyla would like the place.

He swallowed down another mouthful of beer. Mitchell pointed towards an empty pool table on the other side of the bar, away from the dance floor. John nodded his agreement and they sauntered over to grab pool cues and chalk. The local guys gave them friendly enough nods; they weren't intruding on anyone's territory, and John relaxed.

John let Mitchell set up and take the first shot. He was good but John was better. It was all mathematics to him; the calculation of angles, force and velocity. John won the first game easily.

Mitchell sighed and glared at him. 'I might have known you'd be a hustler.'

'Hey, I'm not as bad as Sam.' John pointed out as he set up again.

'That's because you're not as good as her either.' Mitchell grinned broadly and pushed John back from the table gently. 'And loser gets to break.'

'Want to make it interesting?' John asked with an answering grin of his own as he watched the balls spin and slide across the green.

Mitchell lifted an eyebrow in mute query, moving back so John could take his position to shoot. 'What?'

'Winner gets to go first in the story-telling tomorrow.' John calculated the angle on the first ball and it sank into the pocket with a satisfying thunk.

Mitchell had won the story-telling the day before because John couldn't find a 'pretended to be bad guys during a first contact' story in response to Mitchell's tale of pretending to be terrorists and taking a museum hostage. Mitchell's story had ended up with John in fits of laughter especially at Mitchell's description of the alien John McClane and Vala's multiple attempts to break into a display cabinet to get to a Goa'uld bomb.

'I can honestly say,' John had replied when Mitchell had pressed him for a response, 'my team has never gone on a first contact mission, pretended to be terrorists and held people hostage.' There had been a small voice inside him suggesting it was only a matter of time.

He had ended up telling Mitchell about Teyla pretending to be a Wraith Queen which was the closest they'd come to pretending to be bad guys that he could recall. If the story terms had been different, John was sure he would have won. After all, Mitchell hadn't had to undergo extensive surgery.

Having lost that round, John had been determined over the latest competition. After some discussion with Rodney at their daily check-in, he'd gone for the Genii invasion of Atlantis. Mitchell had countered with a story of how the SGC had taken over by multiple copies of Ba'al. They'd agreed John had won before Mitchell had gone on to tell a couple more stories from before his time at the SGC; one where Sam had saved the day from aliens with mimic devices, and one where the SGC got invaded by invisible insect-like creatures. John was torn between fascination and the idle thought that he wasn't certain he wanted to know how many times Earth had come close to being completely wiped out by invading aliens. Either way, four days of swapping stories had established one thing in John's mind: whoever went first definitely had an advantage.

'You're on.' Mitchell agreed with another one of his easy smiles that reminded John of his late friend, Holland; one of the friends he'd failed to rescue in Afghanistan.

Holland had always been the easy-going one in the team; not as loud as Mitch and Dex, not as quiet as John. He'd been military through and through. Somehow, Mitchell's Hollandesque solidity was healing; bringing back fun memories of stupid competitions, games and camaraderie instead of sand, heat and blood.

John was distracted by the raised voices in the other side of the bar by the dance floor and fluffed the last shot he needed. Mitchell gave a small murmur of triumph and moved in as John stepped back only to stop sharply at the sight of a group of men approaching them.

John's tension translated straight to Mitchell who straightened. Somehow it took less than three seconds for John and Mitchell to turn around and for their grips on the pool cues to shift denoting the subconscious change of use from game-tool to weapon. They were sizing up the opposition automatically.

It wasn't the Lucien Alliance, John deduced quickly; all three men wore variations of worn jeans, shirts and cowboy boots. Locals. Angry locals. He swapped a 'what the hell' look with Mitchell that was only moderated by their disbelief and the disconnected feeling they'd fallen into the plot of a bad movie.

'Now, boys,' the bartender, a grey-haired old guy named Lou, ambled over, 'let's not be hasty here, Billy Lee. These folks are visiting the Sheppard ranch.'

Ah. Billy Lee. John belatedly saw the gaggle of women rushing up behind the group of local men.

His former dance partner put her hand on Billy Lee's arm, which John catalogued as bigger than his own but not nearly as muscular as Ronon's. 'It's none of your business, Billy Lee!' She said stridently, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes that told John that she was pleased with unfolding events.

John barely managed to restrain the eye-roll. 'What appears to be the problem?' He asked, trying for friendly.

'You've been hitting on my girl!' Billy Lee sneered, his dark eyes bulging.

'No,' John drawled slowly, 'we danced. Twice. Once to Shania Twain.' Which he thought should prove the inanity of the accusation because who hit on someone when they were dancing to 'I Feel Like a Woman.'

'You big time executives think you could show up here and hit on our girls all the time!' Billy Lee shoved a finger in the direction of John's chest. 'Well, I say enough is enough!'

'My friend's telling the truth.' Mitchell said firmly. 'Look, I'm sure none of us want to fight here. Why don't we just head on back to the ranch and leave you folks to it?'

'Not this time.' Billy Lee took a step toward them.

John's grip tightened on the pool cue. 'You really don't want to do this.'

'Oh, I think I do.'

It was the only warning they got. John sidestepped the punch that Billy Lee aimed for his face, far too aware that the guy's friends had both gone for Mitchell – probably they'd been told to keep him out of it while Billy Lee took care of John.

John had the pool cue up before Billy Lee recovered from the forward momentum of the punch. John moved with the grace drummed into him by Teyla over years of bantos fighting, his heart racing but his breaths even; he smacked Billy Lee's legs out from under him; issued another blow to his gut as Billy Lee tipped forward and as John ended up behind him, smacked him lightly on the back of the head; enough so that Billy Lee lost consciousness but not so there was serious damage.

There was a shocked murmur as Billy Lee collapsed on the wooden floor in a heap.

But John wasn't finished. He spun around to assess the threat to Mitchell. One guy was on the ground clutching his groin; the other was like Billy Lee – out for the count. Mitchell's lip was bloodied but he looked undamaged otherwise.

The whole encounter had taken less than a minute. The bar was totally silent with shock.

Billy Lee's girlfriend gave a shriek and ran forward to kneel beside her fallen beau. 'What did you do?' She glared up at John furiously.

Mitchell dabbed his lip and shared a bemused look with John.

'Maybe someone should call a doctor or an ambulance.' John suggested loudly.

'No need.' A strong voice called out from the front door. A mature man wearing a sheriff's beige uniform, walked over with a young deputy scurrying in his wake.

'Ah, Nate; good of you to show up.' Lou greeted him.

'Well, isn't this the clusterfuck?' Nate said.

John had a horrible feeling that they were going to get arrested and sent to prison without trial. It occurred to him that maybe he'd watched too many episodes of The A-Team.

Nate kept a hand on his sidearm and nodded at both John and Mitchell. 'I'd be putting those pool cues down now.'

John left his on the table and Mitchell did the same.

'This isn't what it looks like.' Mitchell began awkwardly.

'They attacked Billy Lee!' Billy Lee's girlfriend yelled. 'Look at him! He's unconscious!'

And drooling, John noted.

'He attacked us first.' John felt compelled to point out.

'That true, Lou?' Nate asked casually.

'It was.' Lou sighed. 'Tiffany here danced a couple of times with this fella,' he motioned towards John who attempted a smile as though to indicate he was harmless really, 'and I don't know how Billy Lee found out,' Tiffany flushed prettily and looked at the floor, 'but he came in looking for a fight and started one.'

Nate hummed. His hair was white; his pale blue eyes flinty. 'He may have started it but he didn't end it.' He looked over his shoulder at the hovering deputy who barely looked out of high school. 'Well, what're you waiting for? Call the Doc.'

The deputy scuttled off.

'Names?' Nate asked, taking out a notebook and looking at Mitchell expectantly. 'I hate arresting people if I don't know their names.'

John looked over at Mitchell; they were definitely in trouble but it would be fine. Maybe a night in a jail cell before Nate got hold of Sam, they argued about jurisdiction, and the whole thing got referred back to the Air Force. He was fairly confident Sam wouldn't court martial them for self-defence but Rodney was never going to let him forget this. Ever.

Mitchell cleared his throat and tugged out his dog-tags. 'Colonel Cameron Mitchell; United States Air Force.'

A hush of whispers broke out at that. Nate paused in writing, pencil poised about the paper. His eyes moved to John and narrowed.

John was already pulling his own tags out from under his t-shirt. 'Colonel John Sheppard; United States Air Force.'

The hush stopped abruptly at his name. Tiffany looked mortified.

'Don't know why I didn't recognise you, son. You have the look of your mother.' Nate heaved a sigh of his own and put his notebook away.

The hurt that slid in like a butter knife under his ribs at the mention of his mother was swiftly followed by a rush of embarrassment. John didn't look at Mitchell. 'If you're giving us a free pass because of my name, Sheriff, I'd appreciate it if you didn't.'

'Oh boy.' Mitchell lowered his head into his hand.

John felt a sliver of guilt but he wouldn't be the rich boy trading on his father's name; that had never been John.

'Well, now; I'm giving you boys a free pass because you're military, and with your ranks I'd just end up talking to some General, and I don't need that kind of hassle and paperwork to give you a slapped wrist for the violence especially since it's clearly a case of self-defence.' Nate announced briskly. 'Least you didn't kill them. I reckon you pulled your punches.'

'God!' The man with the bruised balls spluttered out. He was still curled up on the floor with his hands over the sensitive area. 'That was him pulling his punches?'

Every man in the bar wore a look of sympathy.

John pinned on a smile. 'We'll, uh, pay for the medical bills.' God knew he had enough money, and John knew exactly how much because Mitchell had insisted on going through it all with him.

'That's mighty fine of you, son.' Nate's blue eyes warmed from flinty to amused. 'Why don't I give you boys an escort back to the ranch?'

'Sure.' John said brightly, recognising the command under the suggestion. He cast a questioning look at Mitchell who nodded. Their quiet night in the bar was over.

Billy Lee stirred and moaned. Tiffany got to her feet. She reached out to John as he went to move past her.

'Mister Sheppard…'

Before John could say anything, Nate stepped up to her with a frown.

'Tiffany, gal, you don't go calling a Colonel Mister, and I think you've done enough damage for one night, don't you?'

Tiffany flushed red again.

John gifted her with a tight smile that he knew didn't reach his eyes and waved a hand magnanimously because he could tell she was worrying about her home or her work or whether he'd be pissed off at her enough to kick her out of both since he owned the town and all. 'Don't worry about it.'

They retrieved their discarded jackets and Nate walked them out. A battered Ford pickup arrived and a doctor jumped out barely acknowledging Nate who gestured for them to get in their car, a sensible four-wheel off-roader.

Mitchell climbed into the passenger side and John took the wheel. They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

'So that was surreal.' John commented dryly.

Mitchell's teeth flashed white in the dark. 'And definitely not sensible.'

John could tell Mitchell was smiling without looking at him.

'Nice moves, by the way.' Mitchell added.

'Thank you.' John said wryly. 'And I should say the same about you. You had two to deal with.'

'Sodan training and hours of sparring with Teal'c.' Mitchell explained, brushing off John's praise. He touched his lip ruefully. 'Possibly this should go on The List.'

John frowned. 'The fight or your lip?'

They'd established The List as things they've sworn they won't talk about outside of their vacation; a twist on the 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' theme. The skating they had ended up watching the night of the bug nightmares was the first item, swiftly followed by the bug nightmares themselves, and getting hopelessly lost on the way back from their morning run in New Orleans and having to get a taxi back to the apartment.

'Both.' Mitchell replied with a short laugh.

They were back at the ranch without any trouble and Nate pulled up alongside them. John invited him in for a coffee but Nate declined. Mitchell excused himself seeming to sense as John did that Nate wanted a word privately.

John let the smell of horse manure, grass and dust fill up his nostrils. A tug of wind tried to mess with his hair. He thought he knew what this was about. 'You've had problems with the execs that have been staying here.'

Nate sighed. 'Some. They think because the company owns the town that gives them privileges.' He rocked back on his heels. 'Doesn't excuse how Tiffany used you though and if you want to press charges against Billy Lee, I'll certainly pursue it.'

John wasn't happy that his suspicions were confirmed; what it said about some of the company's people. He was just as pissed off and furious about it as he had been at finding out one of his men had sexually harassed one of the scientists. It was unacceptable. His lips thinned and he nodded decisively. 'Forget the charges and you should know I'm taking back the ranch as a homestead for when I'm stateside.' He informed Nate. 'There'll be no more trouble.'

'Don't make promises you can't keep, son.' Nate said cheerfully. His eyes swept over him. 'I really should have recognised you, John-boy; your hair always was an unholy mess.'

And just like that, John could remember a younger Nate; a deputy with a smile as warm as the summer sun calling in at the ranch to check on things and taking tea with his grandmother. The memory rushed in and blinded him.

Nate tipped his hat. 'It's late. You should get inside.' He got into his car and drove away.

John breathed in deeply, shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looked up at the stars. They were bright and shiny in the indigo sky. He tracked each constellation before his gaze aimed towards Pegasus. If he closed his eyes, he could feel Atlantis; the hum of her presence deep in the back of his mind. It felt wrong to feel her on Earth; she belonged in Pegasus. And he belonged where she was. He shook off the melancholy and headed inside.

The next morning brought heavy dew on the ground and a cold wind blowing in from the North. The mare John rode, Willowtree, was a beautiful bay. John took it easy; it had been a long time since he had ridden a horse. He walked her for a while before he let her have her head. She was fast over the open ground. John brought her to a halt still in sight of the ranch house.

Mitchell had declined the riding experience, claiming he was sore from the fight. John had sensed something more in the way Mitchell's eyes hadn't met his but he let it go. He thought it was probably a good thing the two of them had some time alone. Mitchell hadn't complained since their initial conversation on the balcony in Panama City, and it helped that they got along great, but John knew if it was him, he'd be frustrated at the restriction of never being out in public without a bodyguard. John brushed a finger over the ubiquitous earpiece and tried not to resent _that_.

John wondered if Rodney had gotten any further on finding out why the two week leave period was so all-fired important. He tried to be patient. He knew Rodney was working on hacking into Landry's files in between trying to fix the city, and the latter was more important. John steadied the horse as she fidgeted. He and Mitchell had agreed not to pressure Sam after Rodney had told John about the briefing on Atlantis that had hinted at the two week issue, and Sam's nudge in the right direction. It was clear that she'd been given a direct order not to inform them.

His cell phone vibrated in the inner pocket of his jacket and John reached for it gingerly, trying to remain balanced on the horse at the same time. He barely remembered to slap it against the other side of his head from the earpiece.

'Sheppard.'

'John.' Dave replied. 'My assistant said you left a message about the Clancyville ranch.'

They hadn't talked since the discussion on the Trust and the unintended segue into their mother's death. Dave's assistant had texted John with the details for their meeting up in San Francisco and John had spoken with her regarding changes to the flight plan and accommodations. It had been Marcie who he'd spoken to that morning with the instruction to cancel all corporate visits to the ranch; that he was designating it family property again. He hadn't expected Dave to call.

'John?' Dave said impatiently.

John cleared his throat. 'Yeah, I want the ranch to be family only from now on.'

'Yeah, I kind of thought you might say that.' Dave agreed with surprising ease. 'You always loved the place when we were kids.'

'It's, uh, more than that.' John said defensively. 'I talked with the Sheriff last night. Some of our company guys have been making pests of themselves with the locals.'

'Seriously? Who?' Dave sounded pissed off and John couldn't determine whether it was affront at the suggestion or a mirror of John's own anger that anyone who worked for them would be such a dick.

'I don't know.' John muttered. 'He didn't name names.'

'I'll look through the records and send anyone who's been there in the last year on sensitivity training.' Dave said decisively, and John breathed out at the assurance that Dave's anger was the same as his own.

'You might want to send a reminder note on sexual harassment being grounds for firing too.' John suggested, thinking back to the Marine situation he'd handled. 'That is our policy isn't it?'

'If it's not, it soon will be.' Dave agreed.

They fell silent.

'You know I haven't been out to the ranch since…' Dave finally murmured.

'Yeah.' John cut him off.

'It's good to make it for family again.' Dave said. 'I don't think Dad ever understood, well, he never came with us, did he? I always wondered why.'

John knew the answer to that. 'He and Gramps didn't get along.'

'They didn't?' Dave said, surprised.

'No.' John swallowed around the lump in his throat. 'I, uh, overheard Mom and Grandma one day talking about it.'

'You remember those chocolate chip pancakes Mom used to make for us when we stayed there?' Dave sighed. 'I loved those pancakes.'

'I remember.' John said, his throat closing up unexpectedly as memories pressed in at the back of his mind. He had to get off the phone. 'Dave…'

'I'm sorry.' Dave blurted out abruptly. 'About the last call; about…everything I guess. I never really considered how it was for you after…after Mom died.'

John felt the sting of tears and pretended it was the wind. He patted Willowtree's neck. 'Dave…' he had to stop him talking somehow.

'I always…' Dave sighed heavily. 'I mean, I was eight; you stopped talking to me. I thought you regretted saving me.'

'Never.' The word was out of John's mouth without thinking. 'Geez, Dave.' The horse shifted under him and John clutched onto the saddle horn for a moment before she stilled again. 'I never regretted saving you.' He said carefully. The rest tumbled out unexpectedly. 'At least I saved you…I just…I couldn't save her too.' He hadn't been able to save a lot of people; Ford, Elizabeth, the original Carson, and a host of others; their names clamouring in his mind one after another.

'You tried.' Dave replied softly.

'It wasn't enough.' John said tiredly. _He wasn't enough._ He really wanted this conversation to end. 'Look, Dave…'

'I know; I should let you get back to your leave.' Dave said briskly. 'I'll, um, see you in San Francisco?'

'Yeah. See you.' John ended the call and rested the warm plastic against his forehead for a long moment before stuffing it back in his pocket. He turned back for the stable and urged Willowtree into a full on gallop.

John waved the stable hand away when he got back and took care of Willowtree himself. He let himself get lost in the routine and methodical process of cooling the horse down, grooming her and seeing to her needs; his mind blessedly blank as it filled with details he'd half-forgotten about preparing the mash and how to hold the tail. He was sweaty and looking forward to a shower when he was done.

'Sheppard, are you there?' Rodney's voice right in his ear almost made him stumble on the stairs up to his bedroom.

He took a breath and tapped the earpiece. 'I'm here, and can't you call me on the phone like normal people?'

'Why?' Rodney asked briskly. 'This is a much quicker and more efficient use of my time.'

'Speaking of which,' John's head creased a little and he started back up the stairs, 'shouldn't you be asleep?'

'It's that late?' Rodney suddenly seemed to realise it was night in his time zone. 'Oh. I was working.'

'Why am I not surprised?' John quipped. He made for his room. 'Rodney, is this a social call because I've been riding and need a shower.'

'A bike or your skateboard?' Rodney interrupted.

'A horse.' John retorted.

'As in a real horse?' Rodney asked. 'Isn't that dangerous?'

'I'm going to take my shower now.' John said with exaggerated patience. 'I'll call you later.'

'No. Wait. This is important.' Rodney babbled. 'I, uh, finally got that information I was looking for.'

And John stopped in the act of peeling his t-shirt off and sat on his bed. 'You did?'

'And actually looking at this, I think I should probably call you on your landline and tell both you and Mitchell together.' Rodney conceded. 'Twenty minutes?'

'Twenty minutes.' John agreed. The earpiece went dead. John tossed it on the bedside table and ran for the shower because from the serious note in Rodney's voice, whatever Rodney had found out, it was important.


	12. Chapter 12

Cam paced back across the study and checked the clock again. It had been thirty minutes since McKay had contacted John.

John shot him a 'sit down and stop pacing' look of annoyance from his position on a plump leather sofa and Cam subsided into the matching deep leather chair, glad to get off his feet. His hand drifted towards the bruise on his rib from a blow one of the locals had managed to land. He ignored the aches in his left leg which had nothing to do with the fight. The sore muscles in his shoulders though made him almost glad that John would have the majority of the flight time later. He ignored the niggling worry that his body was failing like a battered old plane that needed too much maintenance.

'He's late.' Cam pointed out needlessly.

'We'll give him another five minutes.' John said, frowning.

Cam could see the hint of worry in his eyes. If Rodney had been caught hacking into Landry's files…

The phone rang and they both jolted upright. It would have been funny if it wasn't so important.

John smiled sheepishly and reached over to press the button on the speakerphone he'd hunted out and placed on the coffee table between them, along with the jamming device Woolsey had gifted them. 'Sheppard.'

'Sorry, sorry, took me longer than I thought to hack the satellite to jump the signal and…you didn't need to know about that. In fact, let's just forget that I mentioned that, right? Although it's not like you wouldn't already know…'

'McKay.' John said firmly, interrupting the steady flow of words. Cam mused that John could probably win a gold medal if McKay-wrangling ever became a national sport.

'Is, um, Mitchell there?'

'I'm here, McKay.' Cam slid forward in the chair to speak closer to the phone.

'Good, good.' Rodney harrumphed. 'So, I'm not sure where to begin here because…'

'Begin at the beginning, Rodney.' John suggested calmly, inching forward on the sofa to hunch over the speakerphone.

Cam felt his mouth dry up in anticipation; he was unexpectedly nervous, hands sweating.

'OK.' Rodney took a breath and launched in. 'Well, the beginning according to this was an official mission that Colonel Mitchell here undertook approximately around the time you, John, took your little side-trip into one potential future timeline that thankfully is now never going to happen so…maybe he can actually begin by informing us of the mission because all the official reports had been blacked out.'

'What mission, Rodney?' John asked before Cam could.

'Oh, um, the mission to go undercover with the Lucien Alliance with the objective of obtaining information regarding the location of the Ba'al.'

Cam frowned. The mission had straightforward; above board. 'Are you sure that's the mission because there's no reason for those reports to be blacked out?'

'No, I'm not sure,' Rodney replied snappily, 'I'm making this up for my health and…'

'McKay.' A warning note entered John's voice but the look he was aiming was at Cam.

Cam knew he was being told without words to stop questioning McKay just as John was telling McKay to play nicely with Cam. Cam sighed and rubbed the back of his head. 'We had intelligence that one of the new players in the Lucien Alliance was rumoured to know where Ba'al was. I went undercover pretending to be another Lucien Alliance player who was rarely seen. I'd done it before and this was pretty much the same thing. Anyway, long story short; I spent a couple of days there and my cover was blown. I ended up in a cell and I was expecting torture, pain, more torture…'

'The usual.' John commented.

'Right.' Cam gave a shrug. 'Only instead I get taken to her quarters and…'

' _Her_ quarters.' Rodney said on the other end of the line. 'I might have known. Never mind. Carry on.'

'We _talked_.' Cam stressed, defensively.

There was a muffled snort from Rodney and he could tell John was laughing at him silently because the corners of his eyes had crinkled up.

Cam rolled his eyes at them. 'Anyway, I managed to convince Allia that giving me the information about Ba'al and letting me go was the best thing for everybody and…' he made a flappy motion with his hand.

'That was it.' John deciphered.

'A couple of days later we'd verified the intel with the Tok'ra and went Ba'al hunting.' Cam shrugged. 'I wrote up the report but Allia was never named to protect her.'

'Hmmm,' Rodney's voice drifted up from the speakerphone, 'well, what you didn't know was two weeks after Ba'al bit the dust, your lady friend contacted the SGC. You were on another mission with SG1 and General Landry took the call.'

'Allia called the SGC?' Cam felt stunned.

'Apparently you made quite the impression and she wanted to see you specifically,' Rodney needled, 'but she finally acquiesced to meeting up with Landry. They, uh, talked and she cut a deal.'

'She agreed to spy for us.' John said out loud what Cam was thinking.

'For a year after which she'd get to come to Earth and begin a whole new life.' Rodney confirmed.

Cam frowned. 'Why wasn't I told?'

'Because it was kept off the books.' Rodney sounded as though he's talking with his mouth full. 'Way, way, way off the books. I mean we're talking like Landry's personal project off the books. Until the Lucien Alliance tried to force you guys off the map, the only people who knew about this project other than Landry as far as I could tell were O'Neill, Sergeant Harriman, Major Davis and the President.'

'OK,' John said slowly, 'so this secret task force that Landry's supposedly heading up in Washington which everyone thought was about moving the Stargate out of the mountain…'

And suddenly Cam caught on. Crap.

'Not so much.' Rodney agreed. 'He's debriefing her.'

Cam felt his lips twitch; he glanced at John and that was all it took to have them both laughing out loud.

'What? Are you both twelve?' Rodney spluttered. 'And that's just so…I so did not need that image in my mind thank you very much!'

'Sorry, Rodney.' John waved a hand at the phone.

'Yes. Sorry, Rodney.' Cam parroted, tapping at his chest and trying to catch his breath.

'Hmmph.' Rodney didn't sound at all mollified by their apologies. 'Where was I?'

John's eyes snapped to Cam and there was a fraught moment as they both bit back the urge to start laughing again.

'Right,' Rodney continued oblivious, 'the deal Landry made said they'd bring her in from the cold after a year; give her a new life here on Earth. New identity, the works. In return, she provided intel via Landry using the Ancient communication stones. As far as I could see, she would take over Harriman for an hour every couple of weeks or so.'

'Is it just me or does that not creep you the hell out?' John stroked a hand over his upper arm as though cold.

'It was creepy enough when Vala and Daniel did it.' Cam murmured. His hands curled into fists. He was angry at being left out of the loop; angry that Landry had chosen Harriman as his confidante when it had Cam who had made the initial contact. Yet, he knew the General. He knew Landry had made the decision he thought best.

'Anyway, according to the information I've managed to, uh, gather, all goes well the first month but then, Allia provided them with intelligence that the SGC had to use to rescue SG12.' Rodney continued.

'I remember that mission.' Cam said grimly and pushed back the memory of SG12's battered bodies; they'd been tortured and mutilated before they'd been rescued. Of all of them, only Lieutenant Estel hadn't been medically discharged afterwards.

'Rumours begin, or more accurately rumours of rumours, all saying that someone was telling Earth the Alliance secrets.' Something crunched and rustled; Rodney was definitely eating something. 'And then one Alliance operative gets it into their head to investigate properly and somehow finds out about the deal. Luckily Allia manages to, well, terminate the problem – and that's not a phrase I use lightly, but not before the details of the deal make it out into the wider Alliance minus who the spy actually is.'

'So, the Alliance knew they'd got someone telling us their secrets; that the spy had a year to deliver and after that they get a new shiny life on Earth beginning with this three week debrief.' John said.

'And that Colonel Mitchell here was the first contact.' Rodney adds. 'That's why they targeted him.'

'They thought I would know about the deal.' Cam realises. 'That I would lead them right to the spy.'

'You know what I don't get,' John said, 'why wait the year? Why not try and find whoever they thought was spying and deal with them immediately?'

'Good questions,' Rodney admitted somewhat grudgingly, 'and from Allia's intelligence reports, they were definite attempts. They even came close a couple of times. But, no. Mitchell here was their plan B.'

'If they didn't find the spy in the year then the only option was to take her out here before she gets the chance to tell us everything in the debrief.' John said.

'Or take her out regardless.' Cam said. 'The Alliance take a dim view of traitors.'

'Presumably this Allia put something in place to cover her absence with the Alliance?' John asked.

'Lots of the top dogs remain hidden.' Cam informed them briskly. 'Since Netan it's rare for the leadership to get together or for any of the major players to be out in the open.'

'Which made it doubly hard for them to verify who the spy was.' John murmured.

'Does it say where Allia is now?' Cam asked Rodney.

'No,' and there was a silent 'don't be stupid' in that single word uttered by Rodney that even Cam couldn't miss, 'and I don't think I should find out because theoretically I could find out but I don't think you want me to in case, you know, you actually do get captured by the Lucien Alliance and they torture you for information.'

'Way to be optimistic, Rodney.' John said, sending Cam an apologetic look.

'Please.' Rodney sniffed. 'Let's not kid ourselves here. You do know what this all means, right?'

John waved a hand at the phone. 'Why don't you tell us anyway, Rodney?'

'He doesn't have to,' Cam said, 'he means that the situation with Allia ensures the Alliance _is_ going to try and abduct me at some point during the next ten days.'

'And the Colonel with the lemon gets the prize.' Rodney said. 'Although as that means abduction, torture and-or death, I'm not sure I'd categorize it as a prize really.'

'Rodney!' John snapped.

Cam marvelled at McKay's bluntness, caught between a desire to laugh and a desire to punch him. He rubbed his eyes instead to hide his expression from John. Despite John's exasperation, Cam knew from the way John talked about McKay, from the way he trusted him absolutely, that their friendship was one forged in steel and John would take Cam's urge to hit McKay badly. And it wasn't really McKay's fault; he was only the messenger.

'It makes sense why Sam believed it made no difference if we knew.' Rodney continued on blithely. 'I mean, it doesn't change your situation or your options. You already knew they might make an attempt, you just didn't have a concrete idea why.'

But it changed the risk assessment, Cam thought. Staying on vacation and out in the open was a risky option when the Alliance threat had been a maybe; now it was upgraded to almost-certain-to-happen, it was riskier – and he had John to think about.

He raised his gaze and found John looking right back at him as though he had heard every thought that had just gone through Cam's head. Cam fought the blush but he felt the heat of it as it worked its way across his face anyway.

'Is there anything else, Rodney?' John asked, without taking his eyes off Cam.

'No, that's everything I managed to find.' Rodney stated. 'And I think I really need to sleep now.'

'So go get some sleep.' John ordered. 'And, Rodney – thanks.' He punched the disconnect button with a finger before McKay could reply. He pointed the same finger at Cam. 'You have that look.'

'What look?' Cam asked, sliding back to settle fully into the depths of the chair. He crossed his arms over his t-shirt and tried not to feel defensive.

'The one that says you think you should be _sensible_.' John answered back smartly.

Cam appreciated what John was trying to do but he couldn't let him. He'd been a Colonel for longer than John; he let his face fall into his military mask; responsibility and formality. 'Sheppard,' he said tightly, military inflection perfect given the way John's face went blank in automatic response, 'there are times when sensible is the way to go.'

John narrowed his eyes and Cam saw for a brief second the swell of rebellion that he assumed most of John's COs had come up against at some point. But there was a minute shift in John's gaze – possibly, Cam thought, when John remembered Cam wasn't his CO and that it wasn't a mission.

And suddenly Cam was the one feeling like a raw recruit under the glare of a senior officer. He'd forgotten, Cam mused ruefully that even though he'd officially held the rank for longer, John had effectively performed at the rank of Colonel by commanding an off-world base in hostile territory for years. He felt far too exposed under the intense glare but he held still and waited, because Cam wasn't John's CO, but John wasn't Cam's either.

A tiny quirk of John's lips was the only sign that John was aware of the silent power struggle. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

'Let's say you're right, we fly to the nearest military base and you go into protective custody,' John said so reasonably that Cam was almost fooled into thinking John might not be annoyed with him, 'what do you think happens next?'

Cam tried to follow his logic but couldn't. 'I'm not sure…'

'You think the Alliance is going to say, 'gee, too bad; we can't get to him; oh well, might as well go home'?' John was openly mocking him.

Cam's own anger stirred. 'If I'm out of the picture…'

'They'll try and draw you out anyway. And, oh, I wonder; what's the best way they could do that?' John's comment had the precision of a surgical strike.

The Alliance would target his family or Amy. Cam's blood ran cold with the thought.

Cam lurched to his feet and stalked away to the window. He stared out at the vista of stables and barns; people going about the every-day business of the ranch. He pushed his hands into his jeans' pockets because he was angry enough to hit something – someone – and it wasn't John's fault any more than it was McKay's.

He felt irrationally angry at Sam for not telling him even though she was under orders from Landry because he thought he might have taken what McKay and John had told him better if she'd been the one to say it. She'd already thought it through and worked it out, Cam thought angrily. She already knew Cam needed to stay on leave and let the Alliance make their move.

And he was furiously angry at Landry regardless of how much he admired the man and had always gotten along with him. Some spark of reason reminded him that Landry had his reasons. Leaving Cam completely out of the deal with Allia probably became a necessity when the detail that Cam had been the first contact had leaked out. Landry hadn't known about the plot to kidnap and torture Cam to get to Allia; that had only come out with the Alliance's failed attempt to force John and Cam off-grid and make them vulnerable.

And as much as Cam wanted to rail at Landry for deciding not to tell Cam the whole truth on why the Alliance wanted to kidnap him, he knew Landry knew him, his strengths and his flaws, and Landry knew what path Cam would likely go racing down. He remembered his first ever discussion with Landry.

 _'Nobody's perfect. Everyone has some sort of character flaw. What's yours?'_

 _'Sometimes I can be impatient, sir.'_

Cam could feel the impatience bubbling up along with the more dangerous character flaw that came with it; recklessness, the urge to rush in where angels feared to tread, without any kind of plan beyond the need to do _something_.

A half-formed idea took shape in his head; he could leave John, head out on his own and…

'I'm thinking _that_ look can't be good.' John commented dryly.

Cam looked over his shoulder and realised John had seen his reflection in the glass. He sighed. 'John, it's not that I don't appreciate all you've done but…'

John jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at him. 'Tell me you aren't seriously thinking of going off on your own as bait to tempt the Lucien Alliance out in the open.'

'OK,' Cam said agreeably, muscles tensing ready for the fight because he wanted it badly enough that he was looking forward to it, 'I won't tell you!'

'Mitchell…'

'You signed up for leave, Sheppard.' Cam cut in, letting his anger bleeding through. 'And I told you in Panama City, I didn't ask you along to play bodyguard. This isn't your problem.'

'Not my…' John repeated furiously. 'Not my problem?' He took a step toward Cam. 'My entire team is involved here, Mitchell.' Another step. 'McKay risked his career to get that information from Landry's files. Teyla is at your parents and Ronon is stuck outside of your ex-fiancée's house! And now you say it's not my problem?' By the time, John was finished, he was almost in Cam's personal space, with his hand raised and finger still pointing.

Cam took his hands out of his pockets and glared. He chose his words carefully, knowing he needed to get John angrier if he was to make sure John didn't follow. 'I said this isn't your problem and I don't need your help. This isn't a mission and I'm not some CO who's been stuck with you.'

John wasn't quick enough at smoothing his expression to hide the flinch but he didn't back down. 'You think I don't know what you're doing?'

'I don't care what you think.' Cam snapped out. 'I'm done here.'

He brushed John's hand aside and stepped around him.

John placed a hand on his shoulder and Cam whirled, striking out. His punch landed solidly on John's jaw and sent him to the ground. Cam froze for a split second in shock that he'd actually hit John, but then Cam was moving; striding out of the room through the corridor to the stairs.

His heart pounded uncomfortably fast as he made his way up, a sharp pain twinged in his leg with every step. He stormed into the guest room he was using; the wide double bed was made with its corners squared away the way he had been trained. There were a few clothes thrown onto a nearby chair and he grabbed them. He pushed them haphazardly into the duffel bag. He gathered up his shaving kit from the en-suite shower room and checked around to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything else.

He was half-way to the door when it occurred to him he was in the middle of nowhere; that they'd arrived by plane and he had a sinking feeling John wasn't going to lend him a car. He pulled out his cell phone. There was an app that Vala had loaded that would find him the nearest taxi in most cities but it took less than a minute to work out that the small town of Clancyville wasn't included. He shoved the cell phone back in his pocket and thought with his luck the local taxi driver was probably one of the men he'd put in the hospital the night before anyway.

Cam threw his duffle on the bed, put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes. He tried to think of another way off the ranch; maybe he could call the Sheriff, maybe he could call Sam…only Sam had never approved of Cam doing any of his solo runs before and this time was unlikely to be any different. He pushed a hand through his hair, rubbing the short dark strands furiously in frustration.

'So…'

Cam's head swivelled round to the doorway where John lounged up against the wooden frame, legs crossed at his booted ankles, arms folded across the grey t-shirt he wore and a smirk on his face. Cam's eyes slid over the darkening bruise on John's jaw, partly obscured by the perpetual six o'clock shadow that John sported. Cam looked away on a flush of guilt; the anger draining away and leaving him tired and aching.

'I'm guessing you've realised you don't have a mode of transport out of here by now.' John said casually. 'Although if you're thinking of hotwiring Maggie I'm prepared to be really pissed off with you instead of just mildly pissed off at you.'

'I was thinking of hotwiring a car.' Cam shot back without looking at him but there was no heat to the words. He turned around and sank down to sit on the end of the bed.

John padded across and sat down next to him; close enough but not too close to get punched again. 'I'm beginning to appreciate why Landry didn't want us in the loop.'

Cam looked over at him.

'Well, let's face it; he obviously knew…,' John waved a hand at him to encompass Cam's behaviour in the last fifteen minutes, 'and I'm not exactly the poster boy for following orders.'

Cam grimaced. 'I can't sit here and do nothing.'

'I get it.' John replied. 'I do. In your place, I wouldn't be happy waiting for the Alliance to show up. I'd want to rush off and provoke them into showing their hand too.'

'But?'

'But Rodney would rant at me for being an idiot,' John said matter-of-factly, 'and then we'd come up with a plan.'

'Did you just call me an idiot?' Cam wondered out loud.

'Well, if the shoe fits…' John teased him lightly enough that Cam knew he'd been forgiven for throwing the punch. He held Cam's gaze for a moment. 'The important thing which you missed is that _we come up with a plan_.'

Cam looked at him, bemused.

'You want to go after the Lucien Alliance and take out the guys they've sent after you before they get you? I don't have a problem with that.' John said exasperatedly. 'I have a problem with you going off alone half-assed and getting killed.' He paused. 'I'd feel responsible.'

It was jokey enough that Cam believed he was supposed to take it as light-hearted mockery but the way John dropped his gaze to the polished oak floor suggested there was an element of truth in his words. John would feel responsible if Cam went off alone and got himself killed.

Cam sighed. 'A plan's not a bad idea.' He allowed. 'We could probably do with one of those.' He watched as John's shoulders dropped an inch in relief at the pronoun Cam used.

'You know what else we could probably do with?' John asked, looking back at him again, chameleon eyes alight with amusement.

He had no idea. 'I'm sure you're about to tell me.'

'Our teams.' John said simply.

It surprised Cam that he hadn't said an automatic 'no' and he was sure John expected that was what Cam would say after the whole discussion on whether Ronon and Teal'c should join them. Cam hadn't thought about his urge to get away from the team since then. In the quiet moments of flight, in between the story-telling and debates on movies, sports and aircraft, Cam had been thinking about his relationship with Amy; about what might have been. He was sure the base shrink Mackenzie had terms to describe the process; grieving, reflection, letting go.

But he hadn't thought about his team and his unwillingness to talk to them since he'd considered the question after his Replicator nightmare. It was as though realising on some level that his unwillingness had something to do with knowing things would change if he did had settled something in Cam. Maybe he still didn't know what would change or why it would change, what specifically was the issue, but he knew that it didn't matter in the here and now.

Right now was about finding the Lucien Alliance guys before they found Cam; before they got a chance to hurt his family and Amy. That was all that mattered and John was right; they would do better if they had the rest of their teams lined up beside them.

Cam pressed a thumb deep into the palm of his other hand and looked at John. 'We should call Sam.'

John's lips curved into a laconic smile. 'You have something in mind?'

Cam smiled back, somewhat sheepishly as he knew his answer was going to be a concession; an agreement to do things John's way. 'We're going to need her to OK getting our teams all in one place.'

John reached across the expanse of bed and patted his shoulder. 'Sounds like a plan to me.'


	13. Chapter 13

Rodney slapped his alarm off with a muted groan. He was tempted to close his eyes but his brain was already zooming into active mode; lists of the things he needed to deal with clamouring for attention, from city repairs to his on-going research to his relationship with Jennifer to wondering how Teyla and Ronon were finding their Earth based assignments to his worry for John.

It was the latter that occupied Rodney's mind as he stumbled through his morning routine. He was uncertain whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that in the directory of his mind, the folder that was named 'Worry for John' was categorised into numerous subdirectories, some of which had their own subdirectories.

Rodney shivered despite the heat of the shower spray when he considered how close they had come to losing John to another suicide run with a bomb; how close they had come to sacrificing all their lives for that matter.

He shook off the memory and focused on the first of his Worry for John folders that required attention; the one that was named 'Is he happy?' Rodney wasn't certain when he had started to worry about other people's happiness but he had and there was a large part of Rodney that never wanted John or Teyla, Torren or Ronon for that matter to be unhappy in any way. And yet Rodney suspected John wasn't happy and Rodney had the instinctive need to fix it.

Rodney's mouth turned into a downward crooked slant at the thought. He was the first to admit that he wasn't the most perceptive person ever where people were concerned and he was prepared to admit that the idea of John's unhappiness was something that had slowly crept up on him. Maybe it had first occurred to him after the incident with the Sekkari; John had been quiet for days afterwards. It had only been when they'd arrived on Earth though that Rodney had realised John hadn't been back voluntarily since his father had died, (and seriously, he wasn't even sure that John's attendance at the funeral had exactly met the definition of voluntary meaning willing), and oh yes: _John's father had died._ Rodney had called himself a moron that day for not seeing the obvious – that John was grieving, had been grieving for months.

But as much as he blamed himself for not seeing it, Rodney blamed John because his friend had advanced skills in emotional evasion. When John had returned from the funeral, he had grabbed Rodney and taken him to the end of the pier with some beer. Half-way through the alcohol, Rodney had made an awkward attempt to ask how John was dealing with everything, and John had replied that he didn't think it had sunk in properly. There had been no other conversation about it, not in any of times they'd gotten together to play chess or computer golf or race their cars or watch a movie; nothing. Was it any wonder Rodney had assumed that John was fine? OK, so maybe he could have _asked_ but there had been life to deal with; saving Atlantis, saving each other. At least he finally knew – or at least he thought he finally knew that John was grieving and unhappy.

Which was bad.

And Rodney didn't think John's unhappiness was _just_ grief. He'd been struck by the thought that John might be lonely too. That had happened at lunch the day after they had arrived on Earth. Teyla had already been sat with Kanaan and Torren when Rodney and John had sat down; Ronon had turned up with Amelia a moment later, and then Jennifer had snagged the last chair. It had taken until dessert before Rodney had realised that everyone but John had a significant other sitting at the table, and he'd only noticed then because they'd been talking about movie night and Teyla had suggested John invite someone. John had brushed off the suggestion quickly, had smiled and joked, but…but Rodney had struck by the idea that John might be lonely with everyone else being with someone.

It wasn't a question of time spent with people. Rodney had gone back through in his own mind over the last few months for data and, while he didn't had enough data for Ronon and Amelia (but he couldn't believe the Satedan would blow John off for his girlfriend), he had determined that neither Teyla's relationship with Kanaan nor his own relationship with Jennifer had significantly impacted the time John spent with them. Yes, maybe at the beginning, when Rodney had been building up to actually asking Jennifer out, Rodney had broken a few loose arrangements with John, but nothing since they'd actually gotten together; Rodney was sure of that. And so Rodney was assured that John wasn't lacking companionship per se.

But Rodney had been in John's position himself before; the lone singleton in a clutch of couples. He'd always found it mortifying to be the one without the date; the one who didn't have Valentine's plans; the one who was left behind at the table when the others went off to dance – not that he would want to dance even if he had a date but that wasn't the point. John seemed relatively relaxed about that kind of thing but then Rodney thought it was unlikely that John had ever had to worry about anyone looking at him and assuming that John was alone out of anything other than choice. However, Rodney couldn't help thinking about how it felt to be the odd one out; that sense of being on the outside of a club, watching others enviously.

Of course, Rodney didn't want to presume that the solution was finding John a romantic partner. He hoped to God he never became one of _those_ types of friends who match-made and believed everyone should be in a pair. John was more than capable of finding himself someone if he wanted a romantic partner although Rodney couldn't remember John ever pursuing anyone seriously except for Chaya, and Rodney was somewhat prepared to accept that his memories there may have been clouded by his distrust of the Ascended being; that John hadn't been pursuing Chaya as a woman so much as a potential ally, who additionally John had no objection to kissing, sharing glowy sex with, whatever.

Which was not the point.

The point, Rodney thought getting himself back on track as he stepped out of the shower and reached for the thick towels he liked, was that having observed John's unhappiness and determined a romantic partner was not a solution, the question remained: what was the solution?

Rodney had spent a great deal of time floundering around for one, most of it in the midst of the really, really boring IOA meetings they'd been forced to attend. Unfortunately, people weren't Ancient tech and they weren't logical, and identification of Cause A did not necessarily mean Fix B would solve it. He had only gotten as far as 'Talk to Teyla' in all of his solution planning when John had seemingly come up with the solution himself.

Rodney lined up his shaving equipment and began to shave efficiently; methodically. Rodney was prepared to admit that he would never have come up with the solution of a two week flying trip across the States. But when John had explained how he thought it would help Mitchell, Rodney had instinctively known it would help John too.

John's first love was flying and Rodney had even had half-formed thoughts about puddle jumpers in his own solution thinking, but Rodney admitted he probably wouldn't have chosen Mitchell as John's companion. It wasn't that Mitchell had threatened Rodney with a fake lemon but more that Mitchell was the poster boy for the Air Force; all American good looks, boyish charm and flyboy cockiness. Sure, Rodney had believed the same of John initially, but only for about as long as it had taken Rodney to get to a computer and track down John's personnel record with its glaring black mark and Siberian-esque punishment of banishment to Antarctica. But Mitchell's record was pristine; flawless. Rodney had worried that Mitchell wouldn't _get_ John; wouldn't get that John needed the trip as much as evidently Mitchell appeared to.

That worry had been alleviated, Rodney determined. John had let enough slip in their daily check-ins to reveal John and Mitchell had a good many interests in common and got along great – and Rodney wasn't jealous; he wasn't. Plus John had let enough slip about the story-telling competition to reveal it was Mitchell's idea and Rodney's opinion of Mitchell had risen because it was really an ingenious way of getting John to share without John feeling like he'd been made to share. Rodney hoped he was doing his part by encouraging John to tell the stories he knew John usually never talked about, and if those stories happened to be more likely to win the competition, well, Rodney couldn't help that.

Rodney swiped at a stray smear of shaving cream, smoothed a hand over his jaw and decided that it was good enough. He wandered back into the bedroom to begin dressing.

The daily check-ins had been a surprise. The last time they'd been stuck on Earth Rodney had called John almost every time; John had called him once. Rodney wasn't ashamed to say he liked the turnaround; liked the fact that John was calling _him_. The obvious benefit was that Rodney could track the progress of the solution through the calls very effectively. And so far, despite the complication of the Lucien Alliance, he could see the trip was working.

On one level, there was the important fact that John sounded more relaxed; happier. On another, John was clearly beginning to deal with some of the messy emotional stuff that his father's death must have stirred up; his outburst that his Dad was an asshole was a big enough clue that even Rodney couldn't miss it. Rodney would keep his promise; as soon as John got back to the city, they would head down to the end of the pier, swap Dad stories and get horrendously drunk.

So, the 'Is John happy?' worry was easing a little. Rodney was reasonably confident that John was, if not OK, on the path to being OK. He could even maybe consign it a lesser priority in his worry list. Rodney adjusted the cuffs on his uniform, picked up his datapad and left for breakfast.

Of course, if there was only one Worry for John category to be handled, it would be a very strange day. Rodney logged on as he walked; his mind assimilating the new data on the city repairs, power usage and a hundred other technical details even as part of him considered the second item on his worry list: the Lucien Alliance's plan to kidnap Mitchell which would no doubt lead to John getting hurt in some way trying to protect Mitchell.

To distract himself, Rodney fired off a quick 'hello, hope you're OK' email to Jennifer; it occurred to him that he should call her. He spotted something in the data feed from the power grid and tapped his earpiece. 'Radek, have you seen…'

'Yes, yes,' Radek replied, 'am already on my way to the ZPM room.'

'You'll need to…'

'Yes, and you will need…'

'Already done.' Rodney completed sending the instruction to shut down some non-essential systems as he entered the mess. 'Call me when you've pinpointed the problem.'

Radek mumbled something back to him in Czech.

Rodney joined the serving line, datapad still in hand and pointed at the pancakes. Sergeant Baley slid a plate onto his tray and she added another pancake with a wink. Rodney absently thanked her, added syrup and coffee – three cups of it – to his tray. He scanned the mess and found no-one he wanted to particularly eat with; depressingly most of his regular table-mates were away from Atlantis. He went to the team's usual table and tried hard not to feel abandoned.

He thought back through the information he'd uncovered about Landry's secret spy deal as he began to eat. He couldn't help thinking that he had missed something. He put it down to lack of sleep. It had been late when he'd finally cracked through the layers of security around General Landry's files. He actually hadn't ever considered that Landry was capable of making secret deals with the Lucien Alliance. Jack O'Neill; yes. Landry; not so much.

Truthfully every time Rodney interacted with Landry, he came away desperately wanting Hammond back, despite the fact that Hammond had sent him to Siberia. Thinking back to his first face to face encounter with SG1, Rodney sometimes wondered that he wasn't shot for his albeit unwitting part in Colonel Simmons' plan which had almost killed Teal'c. Now, he could barely think of it without cringing, knowing how he felt when someone gave him an arbitrary deadline to save Teyla or Ronon or John or anyone for that matter.

He shook off the memory and dove into the pancakes, all the while keeping his gaze affixed to the datapad and trying to project an aura of 'busy, busy' to account for his eating alone. When a tray was placed across the table, Rodney looked up disconcerted.

Daniel smiled at him as he took his seat. 'Rodney.'

'Daniel.' Rodney darted a look around the mess and wondered why Daniel was sitting with him. He returned his gaze to Daniel to find SG1's archaeologist staring back at him quizzically.

'Oh, were you expecting someone?' Daniel pointed at his seat.

Rodney sighed. 'No.' Daniel cast him another bemused look and Rodney decided he needed a diversion. Rodney gestured with his cutlery. 'How's your research coming along?'

'Good.' Daniel drenched his pancakes in maple syrup and took a bite. 'It's nice to have the time to focus on it.'

'Ah, time.' Rodney said dreamily. 'I remember when I had that.' He sighed and tapped on the datapad, picking up his second cup of coffee to take an appreciative sip.

'I'm pretty sure Janus had a time dilation bubble set up in the lab.' Daniel said.

Rodney choked on his coffee. He glared at Daniel before his mind began sparking at the idea. 'Really? Because that would be really handy in emergencies.'

'I know.' Daniel nodded and popped another slice of soggy pancake in his mouth – and seriously, Rodney was a fan of maple syrup, big fan being Canadian and all, but that much syrup wasn't healthy or sane.

'During the first siege with the Wraith, a time dilation device would have been a godsend.' Rodney thought out loud.

'You would have had more time to figure out plans and get solutions into place.' Daniel nodded again.

'No, actually, I was thinking more of using it for sleeping and eating.' Rodney shot back, annoyed. 'Of course I meant for the planning, not to mention the fixing nuclear bombs and trying to get the crappy generators to work and…' his voice trailed away at Daniel's amused expression. 'What?'

'I could send you the file.' Daniel offered instead of answering the question.

Rodney would like to say no but, hello – time dilation! He nodded curtly instead and focused again on his breakfast.

'How long before you guys head back to Pegasus?' Daniel asked, swiping his pancake through a puddle of syrup.

Rodney sighed. 'Another six weeks if we're incredibly lucky and the repairs go as planned. Eight or more if we run into issues.' He had a sudden and horrible thought. 'So, are you coming back with us this time?'

Daniel's obsession about Atlantis was legendary in the Stargate programme. Rodney didn't blame him; Atlantis was incredible. And Rodney grudgingly allowed that Daniel somewhat, might, deserve to be part of the expedition; Daniel had been the one to discover the existence of Atlantis and to work out the address. But Rodney also knew that Daniel had an unerring ability to find new enemies, so all things considered he'd prefer Daniel to stay well away from Atlantis.

Daniel's eyebrows shot up above the rim of his glasses. 'Uh, no. I don't think so actually.'

'No?' Rodney pursed his lips in disbelief.

Daniel lifted a hand and made a sweeping gesture around the room. 'I mean, don't get me wrong, I think Atlantis is great and I love being here _now_ but…'

'But?' Rodney pressed bluntly, genuinely bemused.

Daniel winced; a twist of lips and lowered eyes that gave away that it was an uncomfortable subject. Tough luck, Rodney thought and motioned impatiently with his knife.

'It's…things have moved on.' Daniel set his fork down and picked up his coffee.

'Well, that's nicely vague and unclear.' Rodney said caustically.

Daniel cocked his head and looked over his mug at Rodney. 'Uh, did I miss the memo where we've suddenly became best friends who tell each other everything?'

Rodney rolled his eyes at that. 'Please, it's not like I'm asking for your deepest, darkest secrets.' Although given the squirmy look that passed across Daniel's face, maybe he was.

'I'm happy where I am.' Daniel finally said. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. 'I mean, I know I made a big deal about coming to Atlantis…'

'No, really?' Rodney felt compelled to mock him. 'I hadn't noticed.'

Daniel shot him a look.

Rodney made a circular motion with one hand for Daniel to continue.

'You know I wanted to come with the expedition that first year, right?' Daniel asked.

Rodney nodded with an exasperated frown because it was all Daniel had talked about in Antarctica after he'd uncovered the address. 'Only O'Neill wouldn't let you.' He said, smirking. 'You were too valuable to risk on a one way trip.' He paused. 'Unlike the rest of us.' Not that he was bitter or anything.

'Hey, I was just as expendable when I took the first trip through the Stargate in our own galaxy.' Daniel pointed out with a smile.

Rodney was somewhat mollified by that. If Daniel had become invaluable by the time the Stargate programme had found Atlantis, Rodney liked to think that he too would be considered invaluable after his years of service.

'Anyway,' Daniel continued, 'you know the rest of how I managed not to get here what with Vala and the Ori, and the subsequent…'

'Intergalactic war with alien superbeings.' Rodney completed. His hand made a hurry-up-and-get-to-the-point motion.

'And after we got rid of the Ori, I was generally too pissed off at the Ancients and Ascended beings…'

And Rodney understood that all too well because the Ancients had been arrogant and left far too many mistakes behind them and Ascended beings had far too many crazy rules.

'And by the time I wasn't pissed off, Sam was here, I mean on Atlantis.' Daniel gave a small shrug. 'Some of us had to stay behind and look after…things.'

Things meaning people, Rodney surmised with a surprising bolt of insight; the people Sam had left behind like her significant other who happened to be Daniel Jackson's best friend, and possibly the young woman Sam had mentioned occasionally; Carrie, Callie, someone?

'So, I spend another year on SG1 and then Sam came home,' Daniel said, 'and I think, great; now I can go visit Atlantis.' He leaned back, waggling his eyebrows. 'We both know how that went.'

'Yes. Right.' Rodney subsided guiltily in his own chair even though it wasn't his fault that Daniel had gotten kidnapped and struck with an energy bolt. OK, maybe the energy bolt was a little his fault, but really not all his fault. 'It isn't always like that.' He said defensively before honesty had him shaking his head and flapping his hand. 'Well, OK, yes, there's imminent death and the weird strange aliens and being kidnapped and tortured on a regular basis but you have to be used to that in this galaxy too.'

It occurred to Rodney to ask himself what the hell he was doing reassuring the guy because he really, _really_ didn't want Daniel Jackson on Atlantis. Daniel was a Trouble Magnet and John was already enough for Rodney in that regard.

Even Daniel was staring at him wide-eyed across the table but he smiled suddenly. 'Yeah, I'm used to that _here_.' His smile widened. 'With _my_ team around as back-up.'

'Oh.' And just like that, Rodney got it.

'As much as I appreciated that we got rescued, and don't get me wrong, I think both of us knew there was the prospect that someone would rescue us because there's _your_ team and I've read pretty much every mission report you guys have filed,' Daniel said dryly, 'but honestly I didn't actually _feel_ rescued until I woke up back in the SGC infirmary.' He waved a hand. 'Mitchell's sat beside me telling me how Teal'c and Vala are going to be pissed that I woke up on his shift and then Sam and Jack showed up and told me that I was never visiting Atlantis again unless SG1 went with me.' He shrugged. 'And I nodded and thought that actually I was OK with that idea.'

'Huh.' Rodney said.

'I know.' Daniel commented. 'Surprised me too but there it is.' He set his coffee mug down. 'So…I'm happy where I am.'

'Huh.' Rodney said again. 'That's…' he tried to think of the right word.

'Huh?' Daniel quipped lightly.

Rodney glared at him. 'Reassuring. I was going to say reassuring.' He frowned at the delight on Daniel's face and rolled his eyes. 'In an 'I'm glad SG1 is around to save the planet because I'm in another galaxy and can't do it myself' kind of way.'

'Right.' Daniel said dryly.

'No, seriously,' Rodney pushed his plate away and reached for his third coffee, wondering absently how he'd managed to drink the second without noticing, 'after all you guys did all go your separate ways at one point.'

Daniel looked perturbed at that.

'Why wouldn't we think you'd want to go off and do your own thing again once, you know, you dealt with the intergalactic alien superbeings?' Rodney warmed to his theme. 'Sam left. She came to Atlantis. So, you know, it wasn't outside of the realms of possibility that you'd pursue your research, and Teal'c would head back to the Jaffa, and Vala would go back to doing whatever it was she was doing before you and she…' he stopped abruptly at Daniel's annoyed face. 'There's probably some kind of book on it.'

'Me and Vala?' Daniel looked horrified.

'No,' Rodney snapped, 'you leaving SG1 to head here – Atlantis, although,' he gestured awkwardly, 'probably about the other, uh, thing too.'

'Oh.' Daniel blinked rapidly. 'Yes.' He said faintly. 'You're probably right.'

There was a pregnant silence.

'I guess Mitchell was pleased with you staying given all the work he put into getting you guys back on SG1.' Rodney burbled out. He inwardly cursed his immediate need to fill the silence and swallowed a huge mouthful of coffee to stop himself from talking. He almost choked. When he finished spluttering he realised Daniel had a pole-axed expression on his face. 'Huh?'

'Nothing.' Daniel said, shaking himself briskly. 'Just a…random thought.'

'About?' Rodney said before he realised from Daniel's appalled face that it was an answer he was supposed to ignore. 'Don't worry, you don't need to tell me!' He rushed out and wafted a hand in the direction of his head. 'Ignore me; lack of sleep.'

'The repairs?' Daniel said sympathetically, grabbing onto the change of subject and running with it like the first contact specialist he was.

'No,' Rodney said on a rush of relief, 'I was talking to John and Mitchell about why the Lucien Alliance was only going to be after them for these two weeks.' And oops, because he hadn't meant to tell anyone about that.

Daniel sat up expectantly. 'And?'

Rodney refused to consider the shift of position he made squirming. It wasn't squirming; it was finding a more comfortable position for his back.

Daniel's lips twitched and he reached for his coffee again. 'If it makes you feel better, I'm probably going to get Jack to crack and tell me everything later today.'

The nagging sense that he was still missing something about the information he'd uncovered, the knowledge that Daniel probably had a mental folder labelled 'Worry for Mitchell,' and a perverse need to share what he'd learned skated around Rodney's brain for a long moment before Rodney gave in. He looked around to check nobody was sitting within earshot – wasn't too surprised to find everyone was giving them a very wide berth, and told Daniel everything.

All of it came out; the initial mission where Mitchell made contact with Allia – which unsurprisingly Daniel remembered, Landry's deal, the way the details leaked out to the Lucien Alliance, the fact that Allia was on Earth for the next couple of weeks, the inevitable conclusion that someone would try and abduct Mitchell and John. Rodney was out of breath by the time he stumbled to a halt.

Daniel blinked at him, but Rodney knew there was more going on Daniel's brain than simple processing of what Rodney had told him. Daniel was already making intuitive leaps forward. 'OK, so I get why Sam, Jack and Landry considered that knowing the two week deal wasn't going to change things.'

'Right, because as long as Mitchell and John choose to stay on leave and in the open, the Lucien Alliance will make a grab for them.' Rodney said. 'They already knew that they might and they can request a beam-out any time.'

'And of course they'll choose to stay on leave now even knowing that it's a certainty that the Alliance will try something because if they come in, Mitchell's family and ex-fiancée are the next likely targets to draw Mitchell back out into the open.' Daniel added.

Rodney wasn't going to admit that he hadn't thought of that.

'Oh God.' Daniel said suddenly.

And Rodney knew that wasn't a good 'Oh God' by the half-panicked look on Daniel's face. 'What?'

Daniel looked torn between telling him and leaving. Eventually, Daniel wet his lips and waved his hand. 'Mitchell's never going to wait for the Lucien Alliance to do something. He gets impatient and…'

'Oh God.' Rodney said. Because Mitchell was going to get John killed.

'Don't worry,' Daniel muttered, as though he'd read Rodney's mind, 'he'll try dumping Sheppard to protect him and go running off on his own and…' his eyes widened again, 'I have to go find him.'

'Wait!' Rodney grabbed at Daniel's arm and tugged him back into the chair with one hand; the other was already reaching for his earpiece. 'McKay to Sheppard.'

There was a heart-stopping moment when there was nothing but static and then –

'Rodney, I'm in the middle of flying.' John whined.

Daniel made hurry-up motions with his hands and Rodney made an abortive attempt to slap them away.

'Is Mitchell with you?' Rodney asked urgently.

'Yes. Why has something gone wrong with the sensors?' John asked, concern radiating through despite the long-distance connection that was being bounced off the Odyssey's communications array.

'No, no,' Rodney signalled to Daniel that everything was fine and watched as Daniel gave a huge sigh of relief and subsided into his chair running a hand through his short dark hair and removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, 'I was talking with Daniel about…things, and he, uh…was concerned about Mitchell going off alone to do something.'

There was another silence.

'Oh my God, you've both totally come up with some idiotic way of getting the two of you killed, haven't you?' Rodney felt the urge to knock his head against the nearest wall.

Daniel looked alarmed again.

'Thanks for the vote of confidence there, buddy.' John drawled out sarcastically. 'Actually, we thought we'd do this the right way.'

'So…' Rodney held up a hand to stop Daniel interrupting him.

'So, we've already talked with Sam about having a team reunion,' John said gleefully, 'you and Jackson should be getting a call from her any minute.'

Team reunion.

Sam.

Translation: they'd been given the go ahead for an official pre-emptive strike.

'You mean…'

'That's right,' John said, 'I'll see you in Kansas, Rodney.' He signed off and Rodney slumped back in his seat.

Daniel gestured at him impatiently. 'What's going on?'

'Apparently, Sam's going to call us,' Rodney sighed, 'we're going to Kansas.'

And Daniel, damn him, smiled. There really weren't enough mental folders in the world, Rodney thought morosely.


	14. Chapter 14

John looked around the breakfast table and thought the whole thing was surreal.

They were in Kansas, which called to mind all kinds of inappropriate jokes both Oz and Superman related, and sat outside of the Mitchells' farm house at the picnic table. The morning sun was shining brightly; there was a nice breeze tugging listlessly on their clothing and lightly ruffling hair-dos. Both the flagship teams of the SGC and Atlantis crowded each other either side of the table, elbows prodding into each other as they wrestled for space. They laughed and joked for the most part, like it really was some kind of weird reunion party and not the start of them trying to work out a way to get to the Lucien Alliance before they got to Mitchell.

John had Rodney on his left and Teal'c on his right with Vala at the end. Across the table, Mitchell was between Teyla and Daniel with Ronon opposite Vala. Mitchell's parents had taken either end; his father, Frank, presided over the table with Wendy, Mitchell's Mom stayed closest to the house where she could dip in and out to bring them more food or drink.

John's eyes scanned the immediate vicinity; they checked out the wide blue sky with its fluffy white clouds. His eyes connected with Mitchell's across the table and Mitchell nodded in agreement with him; they were clear. There were no Lucien Alliance guys hiding in the bushes; nothing on the radar.

John tried to shrug away the feeling of being disconnected and focused on his food. It had been a crazy twenty-four hours getting the gang together. John was pleased that they were all finally in the same time-zone. John and Mitchell had met Ronon and Teal'c in Kansas City at the Sheppard airfield there. Dave's assistant had arranged a mini-van which had been a good call. They'd picked up Rodney and Daniel who'd flown in from San Francisco. Mitchell had driven them to his parents. They'd arrived late and had barely been any time for introductions and to hug Teyla hello before Wendy had noted how tired they all looked and they'd all been bundled off to bed like recalcitrant children. John, Ronon and Rodney were bedded down in Frank's study; the guys of SG1 in the den, with Vala and Teyla sharing Mitchell's old room. It was cosy.

It was only for the next day or so, John tells himself. The Alliance buying that they were all having a mid-vacation get together over the weekend was one thing; all of them staying together beyond that would generate suspicion. Sam had pointed that out to them.

She had been fairly open to the idea of a pre-emptive strike when Mitchell and John had called her. They had carefully left out that they knew everything and just focused on making the case for doing something, although John thought Sam knew that Rodney had hacked the files. Sam had made some good points; they had no idea what the size of the Lucien Alliance team, or who the team was, or where their base of operations was; all they knew for certain was that Mitchell was a target and the Alliance would make a grab for him.

But Sam had come through for them. She'd been the one to take the idea to Landry and O'Neill and secure them the chance to come up with a plan. She'd sent them the latest intelligence; their old friend Stan had back-tracked through the original source material to find out what the Alliance spy Gina Lovell had excised. Sam had been the one to organise replacements for Ronon and Teal'c, and to convince Woolsey to let Rodney have the weekend away from repairs.

John watched as Mitchell's Dad reached for his crutches and hoisted himself to his feet. Mitchell had explained about his Dad's loss of legs in a crashed test flight; about how his father had worked so hard to walk again so John had a lot of admiration for Frank right off the bat. But it was more than that; John could see why Mitchell idolised his father. Frank Mitchell was a great Dad and his gaze often rested proudly on Mitchell; lovingly. He was the type of Dad John had yearned for; the one he didn't get.

The thought startled him and John lost his appetite abruptly. He pushed his plate with what remained of his waffle toward Rodney and slid back, climbing easily out of the confines of the bench. He took a few empty plates back into the kitchen before he dived into the downstairs' bathroom. He busied himself with actually using the facilities before he stood for a while in front of the mirror.

John stared into his reflection. He looked like he always did in civilian mode; messy hair, button down shirt, jeans, hiking boots rather than combat. The shadow of his beard was already beginning despite the early hour. He ran a hand over his jaw and winced at the bruise acquired when Mitchell had punched him. There was a familiar, weary look in his eyes.

His thoughts were jumbled but one circled all the others; why couldn't _his_ father love him like Frank loved Mitchell? What had stopped Patrick Sheppard from loving John unconditionally, to have seen beyond John's stubbornness about flying and to have loved him anyway? Had it been something about John? Or had it been because John hadn't saved his mother, Patrick Sheppard's wife?

The hollow ache in his chest was his only answer.

He left the bathroom before it became clear to everyone that he was hiding. He wandered back into the kitchen and found Frank balanced against the kitchen sink, washing dishes. John immediately headed over to help him, taking a checked towel from a nearby peg.

'You don't need to do that.' Frank said.

John shrugged with one shoulder and continued drying the plate he picked up. 'I've done my share of KP. I think I can handle it.'

Frank laughed. They worked for a while, Frank asking him about the aircraft John had flown until there was a neat stack of plates on the side table and John had swapped out one damp cloth for another.

Rodney wandered through. He looked over at John silently checking that everything was OK and John nodded. Rodney pointed towards the study, telling John without words that he was going to get everything set up and John nodded again. Rodney left and John turned back to find Frank watching him with a warm smile. John fought the urge to blush.

'You have a good team.' Frank said.

'I do.' John said proudly because his team was pretty great.

'I should thank you.' Frank continued.

John looked over at him quizzically. 'For what?'

Frank gestured with his head towards the window.

John looked out. He saw Ronon and Teyla first; his eyes gravitating towards his own team automatically, checking they were OK. They were off to the side, going through a series of bantos moves, fluid and dynamic, well-practiced.

They were giving a demonstration to SG1, John realised belatedly as he took in Mitchell watching at the side, standing with his head cocked, hands on his hips. Teal'c stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, an approving look on his heavy features. Mitchell leaned in to say something to the Jaffa and Teal'c inclined his head in agreement before Mitchell said something to Vala and Daniel on his other side, waving at Ronon and Teyla as though explaining something – maybe the similarities between the Sodan training and the Athosian.

'Looking at him now, I can't believe a week ago he could hardly bear to be in the same room as them.' Frank said quietly.

John felt awkward. It wasn't as though Mitchell had confided anything in him, but there was knowing and _knowing_ and John _knew_ even if he and Mitchell had never talked about it. 'It's hard to hide in a team.'

Frank gave a harrumph and eyed John speculatively. 'He's better and that's thanks to you.'

'He's working it out himself.' John said honestly, unwilling to take credit. 'All I've done is…'

'Be his friend.' Frank held onto the platter dish he'd just washed when John went to take it. He met John's eyes pointedly. 'We appreciate that.'

John had never been good at emotional honesty. He nodded and looked down at his feet. Frank let go of the platter.

John felt the urge to say something ripple over his skin like an all over itch but his throat closed up. He wasn't sure what to say; what he wanted to say. _My Dad died. I miss him. I loved him. I wanted him to be like you and I hate that he wasn't and that it was probably my fault._ And skirting the edges of all of it, the unvarnished truth behind his own need to take off flying for two weeks; _I'm so goddamn tired of losing people; of being too late to save them like I was too late to save my Mom._

'We're ready.' Rodney's voice shattered the silence without warning.

John's fingers clenched around the platter to avoid dropping it. He glanced over his shoulder. Rodney hovered in the doorway and his chin was up; his blue eyes darting away from John's guiltily. He'd probably just overheard Frank, John considered, ignoring the frisson of fear that maybe Rodney had heard John's thoughts too. John hadn't been kidding Frank; it was hard to hide in a team. Looking at Rodney, John realised his rock-solid belief that the others were too distracted by the other relationships in their lives to notice that John was hiding something wasn't as rock-solid as it had been ten minutes before.

'I'll get the others.' John set the platter down carefully and Frank divested him of the towel with a smile.

It was a short walk out to gather them. They came in grumbling. John watched surreptitiously as Mitchell checked on his Dad, as his Mom joined them and started fussing. They looked like a family. They looked normal. The lump in John's throat was painful. He turned away and marched into the study.

Rodney's cot was set off to the side of the desk with the additional folded blankets and pillows that John and Ronon had used to sleep on the floor stacked on top of it. Rodney had multiple laptops running along with a small wireless router that enabled Rodney to log into the SGC network. There was a stack of folders that Rodney had brought with him; intelligence reports, transcripts, and other data that hopefully would help them work out a plan.

John plonked himself on the wooden chair next to the very comfortable desk chair Rodney had appropriated. Teyla sat cross-legged on the cot and Vala scrambled up to sit next to her. They made an unlikely pair but Teyla's warm smile as Vala nudged her shoulder said that the two women had bonded. Ronon dropped to the floor to sit, stretching his long legs out; Teal'c took a seat on the two-seater sofa with Daniel beside him. Mitchell wandered in, looked at the available space and sighed heavily. He lowered himself to sit on the floor by Ronon and John thought the wince wasn't just for show.

Rodney performed the briefing because he'd been the one that had cracked Landry's files. He weaved the story to date well, his hands cutting in and out of the air as he jumped from one logical point to another. John let his mind drift a little because he'd heard it all before and he was impatient to get to the next step: trying to understand what they didn't know. His eyes were drawn to the sky beyond the window. It was the first day that they hadn't been in the air. He already missed it. He looked back and his eyes collided with Mitchell's; understanding and rueful empathy shone in the blue depths. John offered a small smirk of acknowledgement.

'…and I think that brings us to our current point which is trying to plan how not to die horribly while capturing the Lucien Alliance team.' Rodney punctuated the end of his part by sitting down in his chair.

'Are we sure it is wise to provoke them?' Teyla asked. 'Would it not be sensible to wait for them to make their move?'

John avoided looking at Mitchell because Teyla would beat them both with sticks if they laughed. 'If we wait for them to make their move, we can't guarantee that we'll have the advantage.' He sat forward, assuming a commanding position without thinking about it. 'What we need is a trap.'

'With me as bait.' Mitchell agreed, folding his arms over his chest.

'If it's too obvious they won't fall for it.' Vala pointed out, blowing a bubble which popped loudly.

'She's right.' Daniel said. 'Since Netan was taken out, they've been remarkably not stupid in their plan to take over the galaxy, and we don't have a lot to go on.'

'Which is why we're here.' John gestured at Rodney who rolled his eyes at him but obligingly reached for the stack of paper. 'Assignments; we need to try and figure out as much as we can about the team sent to grab Mitchell. This is all the original intelligence that their spy at the NID managed to keep from us.'

Ronon jumped up and thrusts a thumb towards the door. 'I'll keep an eye on the perimeter.'

John would like to say he was surprised but he wasn't. Ronon hated paperwork, but he'd be there with his gun when he was needed.

Teal'c moved smoothly to his feet. 'I will assist.' They were out of the door before anyone could offer a protest.

'I don't suppose that excuse would work for me?' Mitchell asked, looking longingly after them.

'Nope.' Daniel threw a report at him. 'This was your idea.'

'It was Sheppard's.' Mitchell claimed furiously. John didn't get the chance to be irked because Daniel was already answering.

'Of course it was.' Daniel shot back. 'Yours was to run off alone and get yourself killed.'

Mitchell went an interesting shade of red.

'They do that.' Rodney sympathised.

John shot him a look. 'We're here, aren't we?'

Rodney sniffed and handed him a huge stack of paper. 'Well, maybe you're not entirely an idiot these days.'

'Gee, thanks Rodney.' John said dryly and sighed as he began to skim the text. Somehow he had a feeling he was going to end up knowing more about the Lucien Alliance than he really wanted to know by the end of the day.

Three hours in, they were no closer to knowing anything about anything. Their small pile of useful information had five meagre pieces of paper on it.

John pressed his fingers into his eyes and wondered if he could poke right through to the pain that was throbbing in his head. 'Has anybody got anything?'

'Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Zero…'

'McKay.' John interrupted him with a sigh.

'Look, I'm sorry,' Rodney said, 'but this spy they had at the NID obviously did a good job of making sure that anything useful never made it into our hands, and what she let through was vague enough to be entirely useless.'

'I can't believe I'm going to say this,' Mitchell said, throwing down the report that he'd been going through, 'but McKay's right. This is getting us nowhere.'

'What do we have?' John asked because maybe looking at what they had uncovered would improve their morale.

'One picture of the NID spy,' Rodney listed briskly, 'attractive in a very Susan Sarandon kind of way; one vague email confirming five new identities have been constructed; two general communications noting that the plan was proceeding on schedule and one confirmation of plans to buy a warehouse in Paris which was where, uh…' he waved at Mitchell in lieu of saying _where Mitchell had been planning to honeymoon._

'Maybe we should go back to plan A.' Mitchell suggested brightly.

'Intergalactic warfare?' asked Vala with a cheeky smile aimed at John.

Mitchell's momentary confusion disappeared as he waved away her suggestion. 'I mean we put me in a trap.'

'Works for me.' Rodney chipped in.

John sighed heavily. 'McKay.'

'It's his plan!' Rodney pointed out even as his cheeks flared red.

'This kind of work just takes time.' Daniel said without looking up from the mass of paper that surrounded him.

Mitchell rolled his eyes expressively. 'Right. Which we don't have.'

'Perhaps a short recess is in order?' Teyla stretched and moved off the cot as though it was a done deal. 'I believe I would like a walk.'

Fresh air. Exercise. It sounded good to John.

'Want some company?' John asked, standing and performing his own stretch, easing out the kinks in his shoulders and neck. His ass was numb.

'I would like that.' Teyla smiled at him, her dark eyes warming with friendship and fondness.

'Rodney?' John turned to the other member of their team present but Rodney was already gesturing towards one of the laptops.

'Actually if we're taking a break from this then there's stuff that I should check on.'

John nodded and Rodney was gone; diving into the Atlantis systems with a single-minded focus that John appreciated more when they were in a fix and needed Rodney focused.

'I'm going to stay here.' Daniel continued not looking at them.

'Me too.' Vala said brightly.

Mitchell shrugged. 'I'll catch up with Teal'c and Ronon.' He started to lever himself off the floor.

John motioned for Teyla to head out and followed behind her.

'Hell!' Mitchell gasped suddenly. For a second, Mitchell flailed and the prospect of him falling back on the floor was a distinct possibility.

John was beside Mitchell in a heartbeat, one hand grabbing Mitchell's arm to steady him and the other going around his waist to hold him upright and take his weight. Mitchell leaned on him heavily for a minute, breathing rapidly, and white under his tan.

'Cramp.' Mitchell claimed tightly. 'Sorry.'

Daniel finally looked up from the papers and frowned at his team-mate. 'You OK?'

'I'm fine, Jackson.' Mitchell said breezily. He motioned at the cot with his head and John shuffled a step and helped lower him onto it.

Vala crawled over, concerned. 'I can get the healing device.'

'It's just a cramp.' Mitchell repeated with an easy smile as he rubbed at his left thigh. 'Sat on the floor too damn long; that's all.'

But John had spent enough time with Mitchell to see past the smile and understand the assurance was bravado. Mitchell was definitely hurt.

John stepped back, hands on hips, and tilted his head. 'So, the device will take care of that, right?'

Mitchell's eyes snapped to his and there was a weird moment where John knew Mitchell knew John knew. Mitchell grimaced. 'I'll be fine.'

This time John believed him because implicit in Mitchell's statement was that he wasn't fine right at that moment. John nodded. Rodney caught John's eye as he turned to leave again and John shook his head almost imperceptibly. _Forget it; not important._ Rodney turned back to his machines.

John and Teyla wandered out of the house and walked at a steady pace down the driveway. It was a companionable silence. John felt the tension eek out of him with each step. They paused some distance away from the house and stared back at the open countryside.

'Your world is very beautiful.' Teyla said quietly.

Her dark eyes were contemplative; her face serene. And John was suddenly deeply pleased to be standing in the middle of Kansas with her. That he got to finally be with her on some part of Earth that wasn't the grey concrete of the SGC or some messed-up virtual existence created by mist beings.

'I'm glad you like it.' It must be weird for her, he realised; a whole planet populated and with most of that population completely unaware of the existence of alien life never mind alien threats. They'd never encountered a world like theirs in Pegasus.

'The Mitchells are good people.'

John couldn't argue with that.

Teyla turned her face up to the sun. 'Wendy has graciously invited me to visit again with Kanaan and Torren. I would like to bring them here before we leave Earth.'

'Sure.' John nodded. He remembered thinking of showing his team Clancyville. Maybe they could visit the ranch too, and maybe Jeannie in Canada because Rodney's sister would never forgive them if they left Earth without stopping by.

'We should head back.' Teyla said.

They turned around and John smiled when she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

'And what of you, John?' Teyla asked quietly. 'Current circumstances notwithstanding, you seem…lighter.'

John lifted his eyebrows, tilting backwards slightly as he met her questioning gaze. 'I, maybe, needed a vacation.'

Teyla's lips curved. 'You deserve one.'

The corner of John's mouth lifted of its own accord.

They walked a few more steps before Teyla spoke again. 'Mister Woolsey informed us of the situation with an organisation called the Trust?'

'Did he now?' John kept his eyes on the driveway; the patches of grass and flowers along the edge.

'You are concerned for your brother.' Teyla said with her usual unerring accuracy.

'He is my brother.' John said evasively, continuing to walk.

'Then you have made progress with him?' Teyla asked pointedly.

John had never talked to her about his brother. He assumed that she'd heard about him from Ronon or Rodney. 'Maybe.' He allowed because he and Dave had made some progress. He'd remembered Dave wasn't his father, and found out Dave had his own issues about their mother's death; their father's.

John slid a look towards Teyla. Family was treasured in Teyla's mind and heart; Teyla's parents, Tagan and Torren, had probably had a lot of common values with the Mitchells and he was glad she'd met them. He and Rodney weren't exactly advertisements for healthy family relationships; alone, they could have left Teyla with a very skewed view of typical Earth families. There were parental battles, jealousies and sibling fights aplenty in Pegasus – Dave, at least, had never sent Genii bounty hunters out to kill John – but John was aware that power struggles in Pegasus were about survival underneath any surface illusion of pettiness.

He knew Teyla didn't understand why Rodney hadn't spoken to Jeannie for years because she'd asked Rodney once at lunch. John had borne witness to the other man's stumbling and defensive explanation and Teyla's continuing bemusement. He thought she probably didn't understand why John had all but denied the existence of his family; he wasn't looking forward to the moment she asked and he had to produce his own stumbling and defensive explanation. Maybe he'd borrow Rodney's…

' _Sometimes family is endured.'_

John had only just managed not to nod in agreement at that.

They were almost back at the house.

Teyla's hand squeezed his arm. 'Wendy informed me of Colonel Mitchell's injuries from a…a crash? She said it took many months for him to walk again. I did not realise his injury still troubled him given his place on SG1.'

John shrugged. 'He was probably right; too much time sitting on the floor.' Mitchell's injury was his own business; the guy had to be mission fit because John couldn't see Lam, the dragon in charge of the SGC infirmary, allowing him on missions if he wasn't.

A lot of pilots would never have come back from the 302 crash; would never have made the recovery Mitchell had worked his ass off to achieve. John wasn't sure he could have done it. He'd crashed a few times, and each time had left its own kind of scars on John's psyche. Teyla had been a passenger when they'd crashed in the jumper, and most recently in a hive ship, but it was hard to describe to someone who didn't fly what it meant to be the pilot when the aircraft went down. Mitchell's crash by all accounts had been a doozy.

The events after the Battle of Antarctica were a jumbled mess in John's mind of what he'd known _then_ and what he'd learned after joining the programme. Then, he'd been nothing more than a helicopter pilot with a black mark suddenly called into classified search and rescue duties with a few others while the rest of McMurdo went on lockdown. He hadn't been the one to pull Mitchell out of the wreckage of his 302; he'd been too busy pulling bodies out of others.

He remembered it as a flurry of forty-eight long hours where he'd barely been on the ground except for refuelling; one flight after another across the ice; to check they'd found all their people; to report the status of the crashed enemy. On the third day, new pilots had shown up and the McMurdo pilots had been thanked, told to sign their signatures to a stack of non-disclosure agreements and dismissed.

John hadn't bothered to go along with the others to drink and moan about the unfairness of being cut out of the loop; he'd been involved with too much classified stuff himself before his black mark to dwell on the truth that the government kept secrets. He had slept for twelve hours instead. Maybe he'd wondered absently about the enemy; who they were, whether the rumours of aliens were true but mostly his thoughts had been about the 302 and what it would be like to fly one; regret that he was never likely to know.

A month later, his CO had called him back in and told him he was being assigned as a back-up pilot to the supply run between McMurdo and a new top secret research station. John had figured at the time his record before the black mark had been the reason; he might have trashed any confidence the brass had had in him about following orders but he'd never given them reason to think he didn't know how to keep a secret. But he was only back-up for when one of the regular pilots wasn't available so his trips out were far and few between. He'd transported boxes of stuff a few times and taken a couple of technicians out a few more. Frankly, he'd been amazed the day he'd been ordered to report and had been told his cargo was a General.

His previous memories though were overlaid with his newfound knowledge of the Stargate programme; of knowing about the Battle of Antarctica and how close Anubis had come to wiping out Earth; of how many men and women had given their lives to keeping everyone on Earth safe that day; of the chair sitting below the ice waiting for John…

John shook himself out of his introspection as they entered the house and made their way back to the study. He wasn't looking forward to reviewing the reports again. Teyla's hand slipped away from him as she returned to her previous place on the cot where Vala had also made room for Mitchell.

Rodney lifted up a brownie and smiled at John. 'Wendy made snacks.'

'They're good.' Ronon confirmed. He was sprawled over the floor and John had to step over him to get back to his chair.

John sat back down and accepted his brownie from Mitchell with a nodded of thanks. The brownie was incredible; crunchy, chewy and soft in all the right places, sweet with chocolate. John washed it down with a mug of coffee and sat back regarding the others. Teyla and Vala were teasing Rodney over how quickly he had eaten the brownie; Mitchell was discussing Sodan fighting moves with Ronon and Teal'c.

Daniel was alone on the sofa, surrounded by a moat of paper. He hadn't paid any attention to any of them; his brownie sat forlorn on a plate balanced on one arm of the sofa. Ronon eyed it every so often but Teal'c had strategically positioned himself between Ronon and the brownie so Daniel's share was safe.

John was about to break up the party and get them back on research when Daniel sat up suddenly, clutching a piece of paper.

'I have something.' Daniel said. His blue eyes were gleeful behind the panes of glass.

Mitchell made a grabby motion at the report. 'What?'

Daniel carefully held it out of range.

'Jackson!' Mitchell whined.

John shifted on his chair impatiently but he was saved from saying anything by Rodney who was already talking.

'Oh for the love of…' Rodney gesticulated wildly enough that John darted back out of harm's way. 'Can we skip the acting like two year olds and get to the point where you tell us what you've found already?'

There were times when John _loved_ Rodney for being Rodney.

Daniel shot Rodney an exasperated look but he passed the paper to him. 'It's an email from an undisclosed account to Gina Lovell confirming Mitchell's, uh,' his eyes slid past his team-mate, 'honeymoon dates and that the plan was on track.'

John frowned and again Rodney put into words what John was thinking.

'And this tells us what exactly?' Rodney flourished the paper at Daniel like a sword.

'That the honeymoon was part of the plan.' Daniel said sharply.

John still didn't get it; he thought they'd already known that. Mitchell apparently felt the same since he was looking at Daniel with bemusement. John looked at Rodney who clearly had gotten it; his blue eyes were wide open.

Vala nodded sagely and twisted a strand of dark hair between her fingers. 'I had wondered the same thing.'

Mitchell turned to her impatiently; anger flickering across his face. 'What?'

Vala's mobile face contorted for a moment into a grimace. 'How convenient it was that you set your wedding date and honeymoon for the same time that General Landry was debriefing this spy.'

And John got it finally. So did Mitchell from the way his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

'The Lucien Alliance wanted you in a vulnerable position around this time.' Daniel expanded unnecessarily. 'So they had to have had a part in setting the dates of your honeymoon; they wouldn't have left it to chance.'

John held Mitchell's gaze. 'Who suggested the dates?'

Mitchell was pale except for the twin streaks of red across his cheekbones. 'Amy. Amy suggested the dates because of her work…but…'

'We know they have access to brain-washing technology.' Daniel said, almost apologetically.

'Or she may be under duress.' Teal'c said solemnly.

Mitchell stumbled off the cot, gesturing at his team-mates furiously. 'There is no way that Amy has anything to do with the Lucien Alliance, with _this_.'

Something else occurred to John. 'Mitchell, you told me _she_ was the one who proposed.'

The astonished looked on the faces of SG1 gave way that Mitchell hadn't shared that with them either.

Mitchell flinched. He turned sharply and left the room. John waited a beat, expecting one of SG1 to go after him. He got the message when Teal'c stared at him, a lone eyebrow rising accusingly.

'Right.' John said gruffly, pointing at the door. 'I'll just…' he got up and made his way out. He paused when he saw Frank and Wendy sat at the kitchen table, concern written all over their faces. 'Um, did you see…'

Frank slid a hand over Wendy's and motioned towards the outside. 'He sometimes heads to the Thompson's field when he's upset. Keep left at the end of the drive.' There was a look of confidence and trust in Frank's eyes that had John's stomach churning nervously.

John nodded again; attempted a reassuring smile and headed out before they could read past his fake bravado. He began to jog as soon as he was outside, shifting into a smooth run. As it turned out Mitchell hadn't gone far. He sat in the grass where the drive met the road, and worryingly had his cell phone in his hand.

'Did you call her?' John asked breathlessly, running up to stand beside Mitchell. His heart was pounding; chest tight with too short breaths which weren't all run-related because if Mitchell had called Amy and alerted the Lucien Alliance then the show was over.

'No.' He handed John his cell phone without looking at him. 'I was going to but…I don't know what to say. What the fuck can I say?'

John breathed out, relief careening through him. He hovered for a moment; the weight of the cell phone heavy in his hand. There'd been a catch in Mitchell's voice; the thick suppression of tears that John realised Mitchell didn't want anyone to see. But leaving the other man alone was not a good idea – for one thing Mitchell made too tempting a target.

He lowered himself down to the ground without looking at Mitchell. John rested his elbows lightly on his knees, copying the other man's position. They sat quietly, gazing out at the empty road; at the dust rising in the heat and swirling around on the breeze.

'This is my fault.' Mitchell said eventually.

'Unless you're secretly the head of the Lucien Alliance, I'm thinking, not really.' John replied sardonically.

'Whether she's been brainwashed or blackmailed or, whatever,' Mitchell said tersely, 'they're using her to get to me.'

'Yes. _They_ are.' John agreed mildly. He was only too aware though that nothing he said would assuage Mitchell's feelings of guilt.

Mitchell let out a sigh and moved position, curling forward over his knees to glare at a tree across the road. 'We have to save her.'

'We will.' John had a vague plan taking shape in his mind; half-formed and not without risk. It needed input from his team; SG1; from Mitchell himself. He cleared his throat. 'I think I have an idea. We should get back.'

'I know.'

John glanced over at Mitchell for the first time and looked away again quickly when he caught a glimpse of the moisture tracking down Mitchell's cheeks.

'Can we just…' Mitchell's voice broke and he took a deep breath, trying to regain control. 'Can we sit here for a while longer?'

John had an idea how much it had cost Mitchell to ask. He pulled a strand of grass from the ground and played with it, threading it between his fingers. 'Yeah,' he said, 'we can do that.'


	15. Chapter 15

'I hate to be the voice of reason, but is it safe for them to be outside alone?' Rodney said worriedly, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the study after John's departure.

Ronon jumped up. 'I'll go.'

Teyla slid off the bed to join him. She placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder as she passed; a silent promise to keep John safe, and presumably Mitchell who was the actual target and who had been stupid enough to run off alone.

Their exit left Rodney in the uncomfortable stillness of a room filled with SG1. Rodney looked from one unhappy face to another and squirmed in his seat. It was clear that Mitchell had confided more in John about his relationship with the doomed Amy than any of them. A part of Rodney – the part of him that had evolved in the five years he'd spent in Atlantis felt nothing but sympathy for their misery. Which they probably wanted to discuss without an audience, Rodney realised belatedly. He quietly excused himself with a muttered observation that he needed to make some calls.

He took his datapad and cell phone, and sneaked back out to the table where they'd eaten breakfast. In the distance he could see Mitchell and John at the end of the drive; sat on the grass, two similar shapes hunched over. He scanned the surrounding area and spotted Teyla and Ronon guarding them unobtrusively.

Rodney huffed out a short breath of relief. He set the datapad on the table and called Radek. They discussed the repairs and Rodney let the status of Atlantis consume his mind, burying the immediate problem of Mitchell and the Lucien Alliance under a flood of diagnostic results, personnel assignment issues and technical problems all needing solutions. But Radek was good, even if Rodney didn't admit it as much as he should, and they covered a lot of ground quickly. Rodney found himself thumbing the disconnect button a lot sooner than he had thought he would.

His blue eyes automatically picked out John and Mitchell again at the end of the drive. Jealousy unfurled uneasily in his belly. John was _his_ best friend and Rodney felt a little usurped. He'd been fine with John spending his leave with Mitchell although it occurred to him that John's daily calls had helped with that; the knowledge that John wanted to talk to Rodney despite having Mitchell right there with him. But seeing the reality that Mitchell confided in John and John simply sat beside Mitchell offering him comfort…Rodney hated it. It was stupid and juvenile, and Rodney hated feeling stupid and juvenile. He shook away his thoughts, annoyed at himself.

He couldn't blame Mitchell. Who wouldn't want John Sheppard for their friend? And Rodney was prepared to admit that Mitchell had had a pretty crappy couple of weeks. It wasn't every day that someone found out that their girlfriend had probably been brainwashed by an alien organisation, proposed to them and arranged their marriage for the sole purpose of abducting them. Rodney knew if he ever found out that Jennifer was only with him because she'd been brainwashed that John was the first person he'd call.

Rodney frowned. Jennifer wasn't with him because she'd been brainwashed, he reassured himself. Still, he reached for the phone. The number connected immediately and suddenly Jennifer was at the other end saying hello with a bright cheerful voice that had Rodney smiling.

'Hi.' Rodney said and floundered because he really hadn't thought through the compulsion to call her beyond an urge to check she wasn't brainwashed.

'Rodney,' Jennifer's voice warmed with surprise and affection, 'I thought you'd be too busy with the repairs to call.'

'Well, I wanted to…' Rodney searched for an explanation and landed on what he and John had been calling their daily calls, 'check-in. See how you were doing.'

'OK.' Jennifer sounded a little sceptical and Rodney felt defensive because he knew she knew him well enough to know he wasn't the type to check-in. 'I'm having fun.' She continued. 'My Dad's in good form and I met up with an old friend from med school.'

Rodney's mind blazed suddenly. The friend. Staying with Mitchell's ex. Completely natural after a break-up, one preceded by being all but jilted at the altar, right? A concerned friend making sure that she was fine and not suspicious at all.

Jennifer continued talking but Rodney was barely listening. The friend had to be Lucien Alliance; had to be.

'…and I'm thinking she might be a good addition to my team. What about you?'

'Mmm?' Rodney abruptly remembered he was on the phone to Jennifer. 'Sorry. Major break-through. I have to…'

'You called _me_ , Rodney.' Jennifer's exasperation travelled quite clearly through their connection.

'I know, and I do want to talk with you, I really do, it's just…this is important.' Rodney was already gathering his datapad off the table and trying to untangle himself from the bench.

'It's OK, Rodney.' Jennifer said. 'I'll see you in a couple of days. You can make it up to me then.' Amusement lightened her voice.

He really had the best girlfriend in the world.

'Yes, yes, I'll see you then.' Rodney promised rashly because he really didn't know if they were going to be back in Atlantis in a couple of days. He ended the call and hurried inside.

He burst into the study and the three members of SG1 turned to look at him with varying expressions of annoyance (Daniel), amusement (Vala) and the Eyebrow again from Teal'c.

'Sorry, sorry,' Rodney didn't slow down; he made his way to the desk and started logging back onto the laptop, 'but I suddenly realised the woman staying with whatshername…' he flapped his hand in the direction of Teal'c.

'Amy.'

'Amy, right,' Rodney tapped in a few commands and brought up the latest surveillance reports, 'her friend is Lucien Alliance.'

'Because what better way to keep track of her than pretend to be a friend staying with her.' Daniel expanded, immediately understanding Rodney's conclusion. He was suddenly beside Rodney and pointing at the keyboard – needlessly in Rodney's opinion. 'You need to…'

'I know.'

'And check the…'

'I know that too.' Rodney snapped. 'I have done this before.'

'You've hacked into the phone company before?' Daniel asked pointedly.

'Like you haven't.' Rodney scoffed. 'Well, probably _you_ haven't,' he admitted, waving at Daniel, 'it was probably Sam.'

'Perhaps we should focus on obtaining the information we require.' Teal'c suggested.

Rodney looked over his shoulder and started; Teal'c was just behind him. Looming. Rodney turned back to his work and a few seconds later, he had two laptops; one filled with phone information, the other compiling a background check on Amy's friend, Lucinda Keene. He handed the latter off to Daniel before moving to the next stage on the phone information; tracing the numbers on the list.

It was a long list; numbers Amy or Keene had dialled; numbers that had dialled into the phones listed to Amy; tracing any numbers that Keene had in her name; cross-checking them. He set up another programme to start a real-time phone trace mainly because he believed in being prepared.

'This is fascinating.' Daniel murmured. 'According to this Keene's identity is solid as far back as the bounty hunting incident. She's been in place a while.'

'A napper?' Vala suggested.

'I think you mean sleeper.' Daniel responded idly. 'And yes; I think she was put in place as a sleeper. Actually that might be good news since one of the first things she did was make friends with Amy.'

'What's good news?' John's drawl had Rodney shooting a look over his shoulder.

John was framed by the doorway; hands low on his hips. He looked tired and Rodney resented Mitchell fiercely for a second for that. But it wasn't really Mitchell's fault that the solution – vacation – had been interrupted, and Rodney directed his anger back to his work as Daniel explained their progress. A moment later, Rodney felt John's hand on his shoulder.

'That's good work, Rodney.' John dropped into the chair beside Rodney. 'I think I have a plan but we'll wait until everyone's back.'

'Does this plan involve you doing something heroic and foolish?' Rodney asked suspiciously, continuing to input instructions into the laptop. He had found four numbers which he believed were all Lucien Alliance related and he was busy putting traces on them.

John's lips twitched but his hazel eyes met Rodney's with rueful acknowledgement that most of John's plans involved him doing something heroic and foolish. 'I don't think so but then I haven't really got much further than the initial concept.'

'Where's Mitchell?' Rodney asked.

'Making coffee.' John replied, folding his arms and stretching out his legs. His eyes were on the laptop screen and Rodney knew that John knew exactly what Rodney was doing.

'You've identified the other members of the Lucien Alliance cell.' John realised.

'Four of them. If we assume that the five identities were additional to Keene and Lovell than that's…'

'Seven.' John completed.

'I am once again impressed by your ability to perform basic addition.' Rodney teased him dryly.

John waggled his eyebrows at him. 'I can subtract too.' He waved a hand at the monitor. 'We still need to identify the seventh member.'

'That's the tricky one. I don't think they're in the US.' Rodney admitted. 'I need a satellite.'

'Send it to Sam.' John suggested. 'She's got a better connection at the SGC.'

Rodney grimaced but John was right. He fired off his findings and suggestions for tracing the number in an email to Sam.

'Coffee.' Mitchell announced, entering the study. He had a huge tray filled with mugs of varying sizes.

'And cake.' Teyla added, just behind him.

Rodney bounced impatiently as they slid their offerings onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. He dove in and grabbed both a large mug of coffee and a piece of cake before anyone else could get to them.

'Those for me, McKay?' John grinned at him.

Rodney heaved a long-suffering sigh and offered both to him.

'Thanks.' John said with a note of sincerity.

Rodney harrumphed and went back for his own. He muttered under his breath because the slice of cake was marginally smaller and the mug definitely was. He settled into his chair and wasn't surprised when John rolled his eyes, shoved more cake onto Rodney's plate and swapped their mugs around.

They both looked up to see the members of SG1, all huddled together on the cot where Daniel had migrated with the second laptop, staring at them. Rodney glowered back because he'd seen Daniel _give_ O'Neill his cake before and Teal'c swap his _entire_ meal once with Sam. His and John's behaviour wasn't any stranger and, in retrospect, Rodney didn't find that at all comforting.

'So,' John said loudly, clearly signalling that they wouldn't be talking about his and Rodney's sharing habits, 'I believe we have some new leads we need to brief everyone about.'

'Lucinda Keene is definitely a Lucien Alliance spy.' Daniel said, although his blue eyes were twinkling.

'Lucy?' Mitchell almost choked on his cake. 'Amy's friend, Lucy?'

'She was placed here as far as we could tell soon after Netan's demise.' Daniel continued briskly. 'Her mandate was obviously to befriend Amy to get to you; an objective which meant she was in the perfect position when the details of the spy situation were leaked to the Lucien Alliance.'

'So, Lucy's a plant?' Mitchell shook his head. 'She's a sweetheart. Her and Gus.'

'Gus?' Rodney jumped on the name and cross-checked it. 'That's one of the other names I've identified. Gus Jameson; thirty-four, self-employed IT consultant living in Kansas City.'

'Gus is her partner. Amy and I have been out to dinner with them a few times.' Mitchell sighed. 'Only he's not, is he? And she's not…'

'Well, they could be together, Cameron.' Vala said soothingly. 'We really have no idea about their sex lives.'

Teyla looked slightly scandalised.

'Getting back to the point?' John suggested strongly.

'This is good news.' Daniel said brightly.

'That they aren't having sex?' Vala teased him with wide-eyed innocence that Rodney had to admire if only because it had Mitchell laughing and covering it with a fake cough.

'That if Lucy has befriended Amy, it's unlikely that Amy herself is brainwashed.' Daniel snapped out. 'It's more likely simple manipulation.'

'Manipulation?' Mitchell asked tightly.

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and met Mitchell's fierce glare. 'Lucy suggests to Amy that she might want to date you; encourages her to propose to you; maybe even suggests the dates. Amy thinks nothing of it; it's just her friend being supportive.'

Some of the tension left Mitchell; he visibly relaxed back into the stack of pillows. 'That is good news.'

'We should still proceed on the basis that Amy's brainwashed.' John said apologetically. He motioned with his cake fork at Mitchell. 'As much as this information indicates otherwise until she's checked out by Lam at the SGC, we can't take the risk.'

Mitchell nodded, an unhappy frown pulling his lips down. He waved at Rodney. 'You said you'd identified Gus?'

Rodney swallowed the last mouthful of cake and pushed his plate at John. 'I've back-traced four of the phone numbers that were regularly called by Keene. Two were cell phones; one registered to Gus who may or may not be sleeping with Keene; the other to a guy named Kyle Baker based out of Colorado and who lives down the road from Mitchell.'

Rodney took a breath, got one hand on the laptop and started tapping again. 'One of the other numbers was to a hotel outside Topeka where I would guess we're looking at a guest called Elise Vanoit who arrived from France the day after your wedding was, uh, cancelled. I think that she handled the French end of the original plan. There was a warehouse rented in her name in downtown Paris.'

'And the fourth guy?' Ronon asked gruffly.

'Washington landline. A Bill Hargreaves.' Rodney frowned at the slow unravel of data. 'He's connected to Gina Lovell. Same apartment building and…'

A cell phone rang.

Rodney speared John with a sharp look.

John reached into his jeans' pocket, pulled out a cell phone, frowned and threw it at Mitchell. 'Yours.'

Mitchell looked at the display and raised his head, panicked. 'It's Amy.'

'Don't answer it!' Daniel, John and Rodney all snapped out the instruction in a bizarre chorus that had them looking sheepishly at each other.

'Wasn't planning to.' Mitchell said mildly. He fingered the cell phone and diverted the call to the message centre. He held it aloft. 'Now what?'

'Is it possible that they are aware of our investigation?' Teyla asked and it was a good question.

It was a remarkable coincidence that Mitchell's ex had called them in the middle of them discussing the Lucien Alliance.

'I don't see how.' Daniel replied. 'I mean, yes; they're probably aware that we, as in the Stargate programme, are investigating them since their attempt to get Mitchell blew up but I doubt they know specifically that we're talking about them right now.'

'What about their information?' Mitchell pointed at the laptops. 'Did we trigger some alarms or red flags or…'

Rodney bristled under the implied criticism. 'Firstly, this isn't a movie, Colonel, and secondly, I did not set off any alarms or red flags or whatever.' At least he didn't think he did. He bent his head to his laptop and checked quickly. No. No alarms or red flags. He lifted his head and found John smirking at him.

'I'm not surprised she's called you.' Vala announced licking chocolate off her fork with an easy sensuality that had Rodney reminding himself he had a girlfriend.

Daniel sighed. 'Because?' He prompted impatiently.

'Well, let's recap, shall we?' Vala smiled widely. She got to her feet and stretched.

Rodney enjoyed the view but a recap? Seriously. 'We don't need a recap.'

'I'd like a recap.' John said innocently.

Rodney's head swivelled to him; he could feel his face going red. ' _You_ want a recap?'

'It might be useful.' John lifted his eyebrows, his hazel eyes glinting with laughter and Rodney knew he was being teased. 'You know to recap.'

Rodney's eyes narrowed. John sparred physically with Teyla and Ronon but he verbally sparred with Rodney and they both enjoyed it. It was good, Rodney thought absently, to see humour easing out the white tension lines on John's face. 'That's because your hair doesn't leave you enough room to keep track of…'

'Rodney, John.' Teyla interrupted them calmly but firmly. 'Perhaps it would be best if we allowed Vala to continue.'

In other words, shut the hell up. Rodney turned to John and they exchanged identical 'we pissed Teyla off again' looks.

A brief glance around the rest of the room revealed that they'd become the centre of attention again. Ronon grinned at them; Daniel and Vala look unwillingly fascinated; Teal'c was amused if the minute lift of his lips meant anything, and Mitchell looked like he was trying not to laugh, relief gleaming in his blue eyes that he was no longer the main focus of the room. Rodney thought maybe that was the point when he darted another look at John and saw him settling back with a faintly satisfied smirk.

Rodney made an apologetic gesture in Vala's direction and subsided.

Vala stood in the centre of the room. 'OK, let's pretend that I'm the Lucien Alliance.'

Daniel pursed his lips and Rodney thought he was making an effort not to say anything. Rodney sympathised with him because he was biting down on his own lip in an effort not to snap at Vala to get to the point already.

'I know I have a spy that is on Earth that I need to get to and I know the spy first had… _contact_ with Cameron.'

Mitchell flushed and stared hard at Vala. 'I didn't sleep with her!'

'Of course not, Cameron.' Vala winked at him audaciously.

'Vala.' Daniel sighed.

Rodney folded his arms and wondered if there was popcorn in the kitchen because, OK, if Vala and SG1 were going to be putting on a floor show, the recap had the potential to be quite entertaining.

'Right, so I know I have Lucy so I initiate Operation Honeymoon Trap. I get Lucy to encourage Amy to ask Cameron to marry her and to set the dates for when I need to make my grab for Cameron. He'll be on honeymoon so no-one will notice if he goes missing.' Vala elucidated the pointed very well. 'But then, Cameron changes his mind at the last minute and cancels the wedding.'

Mitchell winced visibly. He tugged on the laces of his sneakers and avoided everyone's eyes.

'So Operation Honeymoon Trap is a big failure. Everyone is now paying attention to Cameron. If he goes missing; people are going to notice and worry.' Vala expanded.

Rodney thought she was making a point to Mitchell; so did Mitchell if his glare was anything to go by.

'Then, he sets off on a vacation and, OK, he has another cute Colonel,' Vala pointed in John's direction, 'along with him who they'll have to deal with, but it provides them with another opportunity. Operation Freak Them Out is born. But the idea of forcing the boys into hiding where they'll be vulnerable and easy pickings fails miserably.'

Rodney rolled his eyes. 'So, the Lucien Alliance failed. We know they failed. They know they failed.' He made a circular motion with one hand in lieu of saying 'get on with it.'

Vala stuck her tongue out at him. 'So, as the Lucien Alliance I'm stuck. I decide to regroup. I still have time and I know I'm safe because Amy is under protective surveillance and not in custody.'

'The SGC and NID investigation have focused on Lovell and her activities.' Daniel noted. 'If we assume they know that…'

'Exactly.' Vala beamed at him. 'So, when Cameron comes back to Kansas, despite the presence of our little gathering, I see an opportunity. I know where he is for a couple of days. I just need to get rid of his pesky friends and make it seem like it's Cameron's choice.'

'Amy's going to suggest a meeting.' John said suddenly, getting the Alliance strategy immediately.

Vala whirled around and nodded. 'It's perfect. Amy calls Cameron; she's upset about the break-up, wants to talk. Cameron's much too nice to say no. They arrange to meet and…BAM!' She smacked a fist into a palm. 'The Alliance springs its trap.'

'So I won't be calling her back then.' Mitchell said grimly.

'Actually,' John sat forward, 'this is kind of my plan.' He sounded peevishly upset that the Alliance had made the first move. 'Only this works better.'

He'd been planning to have Mitchell call Amy, Rodney realised, a heartbeat behind John's thinking.

'What?' Mitchell asked, confused.

John motioned at the cell phone Mitchell was holding. 'My plan was for _you_ to call her and arrange a meeting; we spring a trap. Now though…'

'We can pretend to go along with their plan while springing a counter-trap of our own!' Vala exclaimed. 'That's brilliant!'

'Well, I don't know about brilliant.' John waved off the praise but his ears were going red.

And it was a good plan, Rodney considered; needed some work but it had potential.

'No.' Mitchell stood up. He looked serious; hands on hips serious. Rodney wondered if the Air Force taught the pose in some kind of 'how to act like a hero' class. 'This is not a good plan. Amy…we'd be putting Amy at risk.'

'Only a little bit.' Rodney said defensively.

Mitchell glowered at him. 'Unacceptable. She's a civilian; she's…'

'Already in danger.' Rodney fired back. 'You think if you ignore the call, they're going to leave her alone and not use her? That rather than a call from Amy, you're not going to get a call from, oh I didn't know, Lucy or Gus threatening her unless you show up alone, somewhere?'

Mitchell's face tightened with anger. John got to his feet, drawing Mitchell's attention. It reminded Rodney of how John would step in front of him off-world when Rodney was in danger of being hit.

'If _we_ set the trap, we have a better chance of getting her out safely.' John stated softly. 'You know that.'

'I believe Colonel Sheppard is correct.' Teal'c commented quietly.

Mitchell looked at his team-mate and back at John searchingly. John nodded and Rodney knew it was a promise; they'd do everything they could to save Amy. Which undoubtedly would make life much more complicated than it needed to be.

Mitchell nodded slowly. 'How are we going to do this?' He held his phone up. 'Do I call her?'

'Not yet.' John said. 'We need a few things in place first.'

'Like the rest of the plan?' Rodney suggested acerbically.

'Yeah, the rest of the plan would be good.' John grinned with a pointed look of expectation.

'Oh right.' Rodney sighed but this was what they did; John came up with the crazy idea and Rodney made it work. 'That would be up to me then.'


	16. Chapter 16

Cam woke in a rush of something akin to panic. His heart was beating crazily; thumping against his ribcage; his breaths were pants that echoed in his ears. He sat abruptly and tried to orientate himself in the dark of the den. He was stretched out on the sofa; a blanket was tangled around his legs, pooled in a heavy swathe across his hips. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, across his forehead. It came away slick with sweat.

'You OK?' Daniel asked sleepily from his place on the floor. He'd made a nest of blankets and a sleeping bag. There was enough grey light seeping in through the gap in the drapes to illuminate his face; a pale oval of white in amongst the dark shadows.

'I'm fine.' Cam managed, realising Daniel was waiting for a reply. 'Didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.' He shoved at the blanket and managed to dislodge it. He swung his legs off the sofa and sat hunched over, trying to regain his breath. He was barely aware of Daniel moving until his friend sat beside him, wrapped in his sleeping bag and blinking blearily because he wasn't wearing his glasses.

'Sorry.' Cam slumped back against the sofa cushions. It wasn't enough that the day was going to be humiliating enough, Cam just had to freak out before it had even started. He was glad Teal'c had decided to go with Ronon to Kansas City to meet up with the advance team.

It was all part of the plan. Cam let his mind run through the details. John had been placed in command by Sam as soon as they had briefed her and Cam didn't have too many problems with that. Cam knew himself that he was too close to the situation to make objective decisions and he trusted John.

John's first order of business had to bring in a team from Atlantis in a puddle jumper to head to Kansas City and get everything set up there; Rodney had gone with them along with Ronon and Teal'c. They were keeping track of the Lucien Alliance team, and wiring up the venue where Cam would meet Amy. Vala and Teyla were staying with his parents. John, Cam and Daniel would travel to Kansas City; Cam to meet with Amy and for the trap and counter-trap to be sprung.

And hope they all didn't get killed.

Daniel nudged Cam's knee with his own. 'It's OK not to be OK.'

Cam did a reasonable impression of Teal'c, lifting an eyebrow and casting a disbelieving look in Daniel's direction.

'It's four o'clock in the morning,' Daniel said tiredly, huddling into his sleeping bag, 'my powers to construct sentences may not be at their zenith.'

'Oh, I didn't know, Jackson,' Cam drawled, amused despite everything, 'only you could use a word like zenith at four o'clock in the morning.'

'I think Rodney might give it a go.' Daniel said dryly.

'Yes but I understand when you use words.' Cam replied. McKay's speech was an avalanche of technobabble.

Daniel blinked and refocused on Cam. 'Just as well Sheppard understands him. They make a good team.'

'They do.' Cam agreed. The two men had their push and pull down to a fine art; the instinctive knowledge of when the other had hit a problem, when to step in and take over, when to hold back and support. It had been impressive; maybe even a little awe-inspiring particularly the number of popular culture references they could cram into explaining things to each other. The planning had been pretty much the two of them hammering out the big picture with the rest of them adding the fine detail. It was a good plan. It might even work.

'It's not surprising that they know each other so well,' Daniel murmured, 'they've been working together for a long time – longer than us.'

That hadn't occurred to Cam and it settled the brief flashes of jealousy he'd experienced through the day because he'd thought he and his team had a rhythm but it wasn't quite as smooth as John's with Rodney.

'You don't mind, um, not having the command?' Daniel asked tentatively.

Cam shrugged; a mere shift of his shoulders against the soft fabric of the cushions. 'Sam's right; I'm too close and John knows his men better.'

'You know SG1 better.' Daniel pointed out.

'I think John can handle us.' Cam said, flushed with pleasure at Daniel's comment. 'He commands an entire city in the middle of enemy territory, and we might be bad but we're not _that_ bad.'

'You trust him.' Daniel observed.

'I do.' Cam said simply.

'Because he's a pilot?' Daniel asked.

Cam turned his head to look at him. Daniel looked back at him with nothing but curiosity creasing his brow and widening his eyes. 'Maybe at first,' Cam admitted honestly, 'but mainly because he's a friend now.' He was grateful for the dark hiding his flushed cheeks at the self-conscious admission.

Daniel's lips did a strange twist.

Cam frowned. 'You don't trust him?'

'In the abstract, I trust him. I mean, he's very good at what he does, and I know he played a large part in saving me when I visited Atlantis.' Daniel said. 'But, no; I don't trust him like you do.'

Cam made a hum of acknowledgement. A chill had him folding his arms over his chest and rubbing his upper arms to warm them. Daniel tsked at him and reached across to cover Cam with a blanket. He was kind of tucking it into Cam's side and Cam was half-amused by the almost parental move when Daniel cleared his throat.

'I trust you.'

For a second, Cam didn't know what to say to Daniel's quiet comment. They didn't talk about their friendship as a rule. 'Well, you kind of have to, Jackson. I'm your team leader.'

'Maybe at first,' Daniel smiled at him, 'but mainly because, you know, you're my friend now.'

Cam's unaccountably touched; a rush of delight, pride and smug pleasure filled him. He'd thought he was over wanting and needing the approval of his team-mates but maybe he wasn't; maybe he never had been. He nudged Daniel's knee with his own. 'Me too, Daniel.'

He was satisfied when Daniel nudged him back. He knew the other man would notice the unusual use of his first name too; they usually stuck to their surnames – buddy rules they'd silently worked out in the early days of working together.

They sat in the quiet for a while. Cam tracked the shadows across the ceiling; the thin light getting brighter in the window.

'We should probably get back to sleep.' Daniel said after a while. 'Big day.'

Cam sighed. He couldn't say he was looking forward to it. It was going to be excruciatingly embarrassing talking to Amy with everyone listening in to every word. It had been bad enough setting up the meeting.

'I don't know what to say to her.' What a difference a week made, Cam thought with rueful amusement, because maybe he was beginning to understand why he didn't want to talk to his team-mates and maybe he was still scared but he thought it would be OK.

'If you didn't have all of us listening in, didn't have the threat of the Lucien Alliance hanging over your head,' Daniel said softly, 'what would you say to her then?'

'That I didn't want to change my life for her.' Cam rested his head back on the cushions and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, focusing on a familiar smear of paint.

'What did she want you to change?' Daniel asked. He sounded outraged and protective on Cam's behalf; a benediction that soothed Cam's turbulent feelings and ragged thoughts.

'Nothing.' Cam admitted with a short, humourless laugh. 'That was the problem. She didn't want me to change and I didn't want to change. Aren't you supposed to want to change things when you, uh, you're in love?'

'Are you?' Daniel countered reasonably. 'Don't we, I mean society, all talk about how if you love someone you shouldn't want to change them?'

'Sure, nobody should want to change _you_ but shouldn't you want to change things to be with them?' Cam argued back. 'Hell, you gave up your entire planet to be with your wife.' He winced because there was kind of unspoken rule that nobody talked about Sha're unless Daniel brought up the subject himself.

'Honestly, it wasn't the big romantic gesture that it sounds like.' Daniel said almost apologetically. 'There wasn't anything for me on Earth when I went to Abydos the first time.' He sighed. 'Sometimes, I wonder if I…if I'd managed to save her three, four years into the programme, what choice I would have made when there was a real choice to make.'

Cam was silent. He had no clue what to say.

'And then I remember,' Daniel continued, 'that it wouldn't have been me making a choice; it would have been _us_ ; Sha're and I, together.'

'See, I think that's what bothered me; there was never an 'us' making a choice. There was me feeling like I should make a choice and not wanting to.' Cam sighed because he knew there was more to the 'should' and the 'not wanting to' but there were some truths he wasn't ready to face. 'I felt trapped.'

Daniel made a sympathetic noise. 'Well, when you think about it, the relationship was constructed or encouraged by the Lucien Alliance for the sole purpose of trapping you so maybe you subconsciously suspected something all along.'

'I don't think so,' Cam laughed, 'I'm not that perceptive, Daniel.'

'You don't give yourself enough credit sometimes, Cameron.' Daniel replied seriously. He patted Cam's arm through the layer of blanket.

He was momentarily disconcerted by the use of his first name but appreciated the gesture. 'Not about this.' Cam said tiredly. 'I think it's more likely that I've spent the last year being an idiot. Not talking to you guys, not talking to Amy, not being honest with myself.'

'Are you being honest now?' Daniel asked bluntly.

'I'm getting there.' Cam replied. 'I think…I know there's more stuff I need to work through.'

'Maybe tomorrow will help.' Daniel clambered to his feet, still wrapped in the sleeping bag. 'Get some sleep.'

Cam nodded and he stretched back out, rearranging the blanket over his body until he was warm and comfortable. He fell asleep with the thought that maybe everything was going to be OK.

It was a thought that stayed with him through his morning routine. Cam was left alone with his father at the breakfast table after John disappeared to check in with the team in Kansas City, Daniel left to pack, and Vala and Teyla went inside to help Cam's Mom with the clean-up.

The sun was shining; the air was scented with grass, dirt and the lingering aroma of bacon. Cam picked up his coffee and breathed in the bitterness before taking an appreciative sip. He changed position, resting his back against the table and letting his legs stretch out in front of him.

'You're going to continue your flying trip after…today?'

His parents knew something was going to happen related to why they had Vala and Teyla staying with them; they just didn't know what.

'That's the plan.' Cam nodded. He and John had discussed their next location the previous evening.

His Dad smiled at him. 'John's a good man.'

'Yes, he is.' Cam agreed, pleased with his father's approval of his friend.

His Dad looked momentarily uncertain but he leaned forward with obvious intent. 'Is the trip helping him as much as it's helping you?'

'I hope so.' Cam answered seriously, not really surprised that his Dad had picked up on John's inner demons. His Dad had always been great at seeing through the masks people wore to the truth.

His Dad sat back. 'You should bring him back before he leaves for wherever it is he's based.' And the wink that accompanied his words meant his Dad hadn't been oblivious to the few indiscreet stumbles on the cover story that had happened around the dinner table.

'I'll try.' Cam said and meant it.

'You seem better.' His Dad said quietly.

'I'm doing better.' Cam's fingers interlaced around the ceramic and warmed with the last of the heat of his coffee leeching through. 'You were right about me being unhappy; about it being more than just Amy.'

His Dad nodded but he didn't press for details and Cam was glad. He still wasn't ready to share them or to spell them out in his own head.

John walked out and gestured at him, an apologetic smile aimed towards Cam's Dad for interrupting and what he was about to say. 'We should get going.'

Cam slid a look in his Dad's direction and pushed away from the table. He clasped his Dad's shoulder briefly on his way into the house, leaving John alone with him.

The goodbyes were a flurry of hugs, wishes of good luck and worried faces. Cam spent the drive to Kansas City going over the plan details with John and Daniel. John checked in with McKay who was stationed in the puddle jumper overseeing all the technical aspects of the mission. There was a part of Cam which was never going to be comfortable with thinking that a meeting with his ex-fiancée was deemed a mission.

The Lucien Alliance advance team Vanoit and Hargreaves had apparently arrived at the coffee shop that the SGC had taken over, planting Marines in the kitchen and waiting the tables. Hargreaves was the Alliance's technical team because the surveillance equipment they'd already planted – microphones and security cameras – was jammed and McKay confirmed over their headsets that they'd jammed the Asgard beam-out technology. McKay was working on a solution to both issues. He and John traded easy insults about Mission Impossible.

By the time they arrived at the airport – ostensibly to keep up the cover of a team get-together over the weekend and to go through the pretence of dropping Daniel off to take a flight home before Cam and John returned to their vacation – Cam was so tense that he was sure his dentist was going to lecture fairly extensively about grinding teeth at his next check-up.

Daniel grabbed his bag from the trunk. He was going to enter the airport, exit through a side-entrance and get into the cloaked puddle jumper if everything went to plan. He shook hands with John. 'Keep him safe.'

Cam was surprised but John accepted the order with a brisk nod.

'Try not to murder Rodney.' John replied with equal seriousness.

Daniel nodded and turned to Cam as John headed back to the driver's seat. Before Cam could say anything, Daniel stepped up and hugged him.

'No running off on your own. You trust him, remember.' Daniel said before he pulled back. He was gone before Cam could muster up a protest.

Just because he'd run off a couple of times, Cam mused, partly irked by the admonishment and partly touched. He got back in the car.

'Ready?' John asked. He looked good in a grey t-shirt, jeans and a dark grey blazer that covered his shoulder holster. Cam had gone with jeans, navy t-shirt, leather jacket; his gun was tucked away in a holster at the small of his back.

Cam checked the time. They were right on schedule. He and John had agreed that it wouldn't be unusual for them to turn up early. Cam had told Amy that he'd be bringing a friend. Amy had sounded concerned but not worried. Cam took Amy's behaviour as evidence that Amy was only acting on suggestions from Lucy; that she was just an unwitting pawn in the Alliance's game. But John had been firm that they should assume Amy was brainwashed; it was the worst case scenario but a real possibility.

'Are you two going to sit in the car all day or are we doing this?' McKay's strident question blared into their ears.

John tapped his earpiece. 'We're going to sit in the car all day.' He answered back although whatever words had been said out loud, 'what crawled up your ass?' was actually what was conveyed by his tone. His next question though revealed he probably knew the answer to that. 'Have you got Daniel?'

'Yes, we have Daniel.' McKay replied tightly. ' _We_ are on our way back to the coffee shop.' The cloaked puddle jumper would sit on the roof with Daniel and McKay inside.

'Have you…'

'We have surveillance back online.' McKay said. 'But there isn't a way around the beam-out jamming without taking out their laptop.'

'That could be an option if things didn't go to plan.' John replied. 'The guy's sitting in the coffee shop working on it, right?'

'Right because shooting things is always the way to go.' McKay said morosely.

'Correct your course, Rodney.' John returned sweetly.

'How did you…' McKay spluttered.

And Cam joined McKay in wondering if John knew that McKay was wandering off course in the puddle jumper because he could sense the Ancient tech with his mind or whether he simply knew the scientist that well.

'What about their people?' John asked, keeping them all focused.

'The French woman is still at another table. And we've got the last guy sitting in a car outside. Keene and Jameson have been spotted with Amy.'

John started the car and, with a glance in the mirrors, pulled into the stream of traffic. 'What about Lovell and the seventh guy?'

'Lovell's not in play as far as we can tell, and the seventh is definitely out of the country.' McKay answered smartly. 'Sam tracked the phone number to the middle of no-where. We think they're on a boat and moving. Homeworld is trying to get the location locked down.'

So they could blow it up, Cam thought idly. He could go with that plan.

'Our people?' John checked.

'They are in position.' Daniel answered. 'We're landing on the roof of the coffee shop so we'll be in position in a moment too.'

Cam figured landing took all McKay's attention and Daniel had stepped in.

'We're almost there.' John said. 'ETA ten minutes.'

'Bet you're wishing you had a puddle jumper now.' McKay gloated.

John hummed under his breath. 'You parked her at an angle again, didn't you, Rodney?'

There was silence at the other end of the connection.

'There is no _way_ you know that for certain.' McKay huffed out indignantly.

John grinned. 'Sheppard out.' He tapped his ear-piece and Cam did the same.

'How do you know?' Cam asked bluntly.

'He always parks her at an angle,' John demonstrated with one hand, 'unless he kind of crash lands and parks her straight by accident.'

'And you park her straight all the time?' Cam asked amused.

John shot a smile in his direction. 'I fly the puddle jumper with my _mind_ , Mitchell.'

OK, so John always parked her straight. Cam had a feeling John would do so without the mind control.

'Are you going to be OK with Amy's questions and us listening in?'

Cam stiffened at the question but he knew why John had asked it and he'd do the same in his position. 'I think so.'

'When I, uh…' John lifted a hand from the steering wheel and made an awkward gesture, 'did this whole, you know, with, um, Nancy, I found not saying anything was an option.'

Nancy must be John's ex, Cam mused. 'A good option?'

'She didn't hit me.'

Cam smiled and something in him eased. He knew what John was not saying; that if anything got too uncomfortable, Cam could keep quiet.

They found a parking spot across the street. Before they left the car they tapped their ear-pieces back on and did a communications check. They were on an obscure channel which McKay had come up with. Everything worked. Their people were all in place.

It was time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part 4: Mayday**

They exited the car. John fed the meter and they headed across to the coffee shop. Both of them blatantly checked out the immediate area; the Lucien Alliance would expect them to and, frankly, they'd be doing it whether there was a known threat or not. John spotted Kyle Baker leaning against a rental car further down the street, the open oversized map gave him cover as a tourist who'd stopped to figure out where he was or where he was going.

Mitchell led the way into the café. There were only a few tables left and they slipped into the nearest by the door. Mitchell took the chair facing the entrance and John took the chair to his right at the top of the table. It gave him a good view of the door and the rest of the coffee shop.

There was a woman reading a book, a cappuccino cup in front of her and a half-eaten pastry of some kind. John recognised her immediately as the Alliance spy Vanoit, the one who they'd planted in France. She was pretty; brunette, dark eyes, pouty lips. She reminded John a little of Nancy. He let his eyes linger as much as they ever did on an attractive woman before flicking a glance at the guy with the laptop – Bill Hargreaves. He noted the angle of the monitor and the cell phone sitting beside, calculating the shot he'd need to make to take out the technology and Bill himself.

There was a couple on a table in the far corner and John frowned. They looked like students; girlfriend and boyfriend of the hand holding and flirtatious smiles were anything to go by. John sighed. They couldn't keep innocent members of the public away without it looking suspicious.

He pulled out the Sudoku book from his inner jacket pocket and a pen. Mitchell reached for the menu and pursed his lips at it as he considered what to order.

'What can I get you?' Sergeant Dusty Mehra appeared by the table as though by magic.

John schooled himself not to react to the sight of the NCO chewing bubble-gum and looking very much like a harried waitress and not the tough soldier he knew her to be. "Coffee. Black, please."

"Yes, sir." Dusty said automatically, scribbling it on the order pad she held.

'I'll have the same.' Mitchell muttered, sliding back to fold his arms tight across his chest and stare unhappily at the entrance.

'Sure thing.' Dusty said. 'Any cakes or pie?'

'No, thanks.' John smiled to soften the refusal. 'Just the coffee for me.'

'I'll take a slice of the pecan.' Mitchell said as though to make up for John's lack of appetite.

Dusty nodded and moved away, back to the door that separated the kitchen from the front of house.

Mitchell gave a sigh and lowered his voice so it wouldn't carry within the coffee shop. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

John lifted his eyebrows. 'It'll be fine.' He didn't want to give too much more of a pep talk while everybody else was listening in.

Mitchell nodded quickly, getting the message.

John raised the Sudoku book. 'You want to help me with one of these while we wait?'

'Oh no.' Mitchell raised both his hands as though in surrender. 'The last time I helped you, you argued with me.'

It was the wrong number.' John countered, unconcerned at Rodney's snort of amusement in his ear.

'It was the first number.' Mitchell said dryly.

John shifted on his chair. He didn't want to reveal that he could do the puzzles in his head in about a minute but he'd spend the next five or ten minutes pretending to ponder and filling the boxes in with ink to be normal.

Luckily, Dusty returned with their drinks and Mitchell's pie. She gave them a smile and hurried back to the waitress station on the other side of the coffee shop where Anne Teldy was already pretending to clean cutlery.

'She's late.' Mitchell noted as he blew on the surface of the coffee. He tugged the plate with his pie on it closer to him.

John took a moment to inhale the scent before he took a sip. 'I'm sure she'll be here.' He took another quick glance around the tables.

'I'll be glad to get back to our vacation.' Mitchell forked up some pie.

John huffed in agreement. The days without flying had been torturous. It would be good to get in the air again.

'You still OK on the next destination?' Mitchell asked.

'Fine with me.' John said. They'd decided on the small Sheppard airfield an hour away from Colorado Springs. They'd spend the night at Mitchell's house. They didn't think anyone would expect them to return there although Sam had sounded smugly knowing when they'd informed her.

Mitchell stiffened and John's eyes flitted through the window to the outside. A blonde woman hovered outside the entrance; John assumed she was Amy. There was a couple, another blonde haired woman John knew was Keene and a man who had to be Gus, just behind her.

They both got to their feet as Amy pushed open the door and walked towards their table. She paused by the side and smiled.

John could see why Mitchell had fallen for her; she was a pretty woman; a keen intelligence shone from her eyes, and her smile, while nervous, was warm and friendly. She wore a simple blue dress that accentuated her slim figure but was in no way revealing. On paper, she was exactly the type of woman he thought Mitchell would end up with.

'Amy.' Mitchell greeted with a tentative smile.

'Cam.' Amy's smile brightened for a moment. 'Thank you for seeing me.' Her gaze slid to John.

'This is John Sheppard.' Mitchell introduced him awkwardly.

John held out his hand and wasn't surprised at the firm but solid grip that Amy shook his hand with.

Her head tilted to the side although her hair remained held tightly by the clasp at the back at the nape of her neck. 'Mitchell mentioned you're another pilot?'

'That's right.' John produced a charming smile and let his own eyes flicker behind her to her friends.

'Oh, I'm sorry; let me introduce you.' Amy motioned to the couple with an apologetic wince. 'My friends Lucy and Gus.'

John shook hands again, wary that the couple might strike immediately since the Alliance had their main players all in place.

'Cam.' Lucy nodded toward Mitchell. 'It's good to see you again, despite the circumstances.' She placed a hand on Amy's shoulder in support.

John was impressed; he could almost believe she was genuinely concerned for her friend. He caught Mitchell's eye. 'I'll just go over there and…' he gestured with the Sudoku book.

'Why don't we sit together then,' suggested Gus, 'give these kids some space?'

John smiled thinly. He didn't intend getting trapped at a table with them. 'Thanks, but if it's OK with you, I've been looking forward to doing these all morning so…'

Gus's answering smile was completely false but he nodded. 'Lucy and I will take another table and leave you to it.'

John slipped into a seat at the table next to Hargreaves, taking his coffee with him. He saw Dusty move in as Amy got seated and heard her order a latte. Gus and Lucy had taken the table next to Vanoit near to Mitchell and Teldy moved to take their order. He took a sip of his drink, opened his Sudoku book and tuned in to listen to Cam.

'Thank you for meeting with me,' Amy began hesitantly, 'I wasn't sure you would.'

'I know my decision took you by surprise and I'm sorry about that.' Mitchell said bluntly.

There was a pause as Dusty delivered the drink.

'I need to know why.' Amy said firmly.

' _They're actually going to make him go through with having to talk with her before they make their move?'_ Rodney noted over the open comms channel, horrified. _'That's so evil.'_

John hid his smile by taking another gulp of his coffee. He spared a glance at Mitchell who shot him a look that said 'I'm going to kill McKay and you're not going to stop me.'

Mitchell turned back to Amy. 'I'm not sure I know how to explain it.' He shifted on the hard wooden seat and kept his attention on her. 'Mostly, I realised that I felt trapped and…' he sighed as he met her eyes, 'and I knew that's not the way you're supposed to feel when you're about to get married.'

'Did I do something to make you feel that way?' Amy's fingers wrapped around her cup tightly.

John let his gaze drop to the Sudoku book before he took another glance around the coffee shop. Gus and Lucy looked deep in conversation; Vanoit hadn't looked up from her book; Hargreaves looked like a businessman engaged in deep thought over an email. There was no sign that they were about to attack. John thought Rodney was right; they planned to humiliate Mitchell with forcing him to talk with Amy over the cancelled engagement and wedding before they attempted to take him. It was a good strategy; it would have Mitchell emotionally off his game.

He frowned into his Sudoku book and carefully completed one puzzle for the sake of appearances.

Across the shop, Mitchell cleared his throat. 'It's a cliché but this really is one time when it's not you; it's me.'

'I just don't understand,' Amy pressed, 'we were happy; I thought we were happy.'

'I thought I was too until I realised I wasn't.' Mitchell murmured quietly.

John gave another surreptitious look around the tables. The Alliance operatives remained completely still as though they had no intention of moving. Maybe he should give the order for their people to move, John thought idly; just spring the trap and grab the Alliance operatives; save Mitchell from having to reveal the truth about his personal relationship to his team, to John's team, and the Atlantis Marines in the kitchen.

'Amy, why did you ask me to marry you?' Mitchell's question almost made John start and he threw a look over to the table to find Mitchell looking at Amy intently.

Of course, John determined; Mitchell was trying to ascertain whether Amy was an innocent in the plot to kidnap him. He'd hold off on the order and allow his friend the leeway.

'Why did I…' Amy frowned at Mitchell. 'Why ask me that now?'

'Please, Amy.' Mitchell implored her. 'I need to know. Why did you ask me?'

'It just…it felt like the right time.' Amy said defensively, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest. 'We'd been dating for a while.' She paused. 'I knew I loved you and I believed you loved me.'

John could see Mitchell flinch at the accusation from where he was sitting. It was a good volley.

'So why not wait for me to propose?' Mitchell asked, firing right back.

'Seriously?' Amy said sharply. 'Is that what this was about? You wanted to be the one to ask?'

'Yes. No.' Mitchell sighed heavily. 'It's…I've just been thinking about it, and you never indicated you _wanted_ me to propose. No hints, no discussion about kids or the future.' He splayed his hands wide. 'You took me by surprise.'

Amy leaned forward again. 'Cam, I guess I thought we'd already talked about the future right at the beginning when you were recovering from your injuries at your folks' house. You talked about getting a less dangerous assignment especially if you'd had that surgery the doctors recommended. You talked about settling down and having kids. I thought we were on the same page that it was something we both wanted.'

John kept his gaze on his Sudoku book because he was too tempted to send Mitchell a look of compassionate support that would give away that he'd overheard what Amy had said.

'I was waiting for you to propose,' Amy admitted, 'and I was talking it over with Lucy when she pointed out that women could propose too and…' she sighed. 'You could have said no.'

So, it had been Lucy who'd made the suggestion for Amy to propose, John pursed his lips as he slid a look to Lucy's table. She and Gus had seemingly fallen quiet.

'I know.' Mitchell murmured. 'But you're right even if we hadn't talked about it right before you proposed I knew it was where we were heading.'

'I'm confused.' Amy said after a long pause. 'You didn't want me to propose; you say that you were surprised because we hadn't talked specifically about it in the days before I did, but you admit it was something that was on the cards?'

Mitchell blew out a long breath. 'I was confused too. I think that was part of the problem.' He leaned back and picked up a coaster playing with it absently. 'Why did you suggest getting married this past month? I always wondered why you chose these dates.'

Vanoit's tea cup crashed back into its saucer. John's eyes flickered over to her. So they were all listening in and Mitchell's question had just alerted them that Mitchell might have worked out Amy could be involved.

Amy looked bemused, not guilty though. 'It was timing, you know that. I had that big commission Lucy helped me get and the end date of that was a couple of weeks before our…our wedding date.'

Another Lucy influence established, John thought; maybe Amy had only been manipulated. The scrape of chairs against the floor had him looking up swiftly, just in time to see the young couple exit, payment and tip left behind on the table.

Hargreaves's cell phone vibrated against the wooden table and John knew it was their signal to move.

' _We're trying to trace the call.'_ Rodney confirmed in his head.

John tapped his earpiece surreptitiously. It was their own signal to get ready.

The call on Hargreaves's side was terse and gave nothing away. John didn't bother listening to it. He was readying himself; as soon as it was over, he would give the order to move in on them. He trusted Teal'c and Ronon would take care of Kyle outside; Teldy and Dusty were on Vanoit, Gus and Lucy; he had Hargreaves and Mitchell would take care of Amy. Regardless of what they'd learned, John knew they couldn't know for certain Amy's involvement until Lam ruled out brainwashing and Goa'uld infestation.

Hargreaves's call ended. He put down the phone and his hand shifted over his laptop.

'Now!' ordered John decisively, pulling his weapon and firing on the computer at the same time.

The effect was immediate.

All pretence was dropped by the Alliance operatives as John moved in to subdue Hargreaves. He ducked the phone the other man threw at him and the punch; he neatly turned aside and delivered his own punch to Hargreaves's jaw. Hargreaves staggered back briefly but charged at him.

John saw Dusty exchanging some complicated martial arts moves with Vanoit before Hargreaves's tackle took him backwards to the floor; Teldy was struggling with Lucy; Gus had gone for Mitchell and they were wrestling by Mitchell's table, leaving Amy crouched under the table and looking bewildered.

He dragged his attention back to his own fight even as he heard the storm of footsteps from the kitchen coming to help them. He kneed Hargreaves in the groin; slammed the heel of his hand into the other man's nose breaking it with a substantial crack and threw him off him. He got up swiftly and hit Hargreaves over the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Hargreaves went down.

There was a startled cry behind him and John turned, aiming his gun, to see Lucy grabbing Amy by the arm, using her as a shield, a knife held at Amy's throat warningly. John searched immediately for Teldy; she was down, blood seeping from a wound on her back.

Lucy's attention was on Mitchell who had knocked out Gus.

'Don't come after us!' Lucy warned. She was out of the entrance before any of them could move.

John intercepted Mitchell at the door. He firmly planted his free hand in the other man's chest and pushed him back. 'Stay here; take care of Teldy. I'll get Amy back.'

Mitchell's blue eyes flashed with anger, hands balling into fists beside him, but he nodded. John didn't bother wasting any more time arguing. He flung himself out of the coffee shop and into the street.

He could see Lucy dragging Amy towards a car. Teal'c, Ronon and Kyle were involved in a three-way fight by Kyle's car.

'Keene!' John whirled around, aiming his gun and Lucy froze for a second.

But only a second.

In the next, she was yanking Amy along with her, down the street towards an alleyway. John swore under his breath and raced after her. He slowed as he got to the narrow entrance of the alleyway. He could see it was a dead-end; a high brick wall on the far end cast a long shadow. Lucy stumbled to a halt in front of it, hauling Amy back in front of her, continuing to use her as a shield and a piece of leverage.

John walked in slowly, his gun held firmly in both hands. 'Let her go, Keene. It's over.'

'I don't think so!' Lucy snarled. Despite the jeans and prissy lavender blouse, she moved with the lithe deftness of a soldier. John was reminded of Teyla rather than the suburban girlfriend that Lucy had played in the coffee shop during their introduction.

'Lucy, what's going on?' Amy gasped.

'Shut up!'

'Amy,' John drew her attention, 'just stay calm; this will all be over soon.'

'It'll be over as soon as you let me leave with her.' Lucy's eyes darted around the alleyway, looking for a way out.

'So you can take her and continue to use her as a pawn to get to Mitchell again? That's not going to happen.' John said firmly.

'Use me?' Amy twisted her head and stared at Lucy. 'What's he talking about and what are you doing? Why are you acting this way?'

'Please.' Lucy sneered. 'You really think I'd want to be friends with you?'

Amy's mouth dropped open.

'I only befriended you to get close to Mitchell.' Lucy stated cruelly. 'And God knows I can't blame him for backing out of your wedding. You're so insipid. Why would he want to marry you?'

John wondered whether he should interrupt the incipient cat fight but he held his tongue. If Amy could distract Lucy, she might lower the knife an inch and then John could shoot Lucy cleanly…

Amy's mouth gaped open again before it snapped shut. 'You know nothing about my relationship with Cam!'

'Of course I know!' Lucy snarled right back. 'We've done nothing but talk about it endlessly. What a good lover he is! What a good man! How he'd be a wonderful father and a wonderful husband! Whether you please him in bed, out of bed! God, you're so boring!'

'I'm boring?' Amy struggled in Lucy's hold. 'Well, you don't know everything about me!' She sagged suddenly and at the same time drove her elbow hard into Lucy's sternum.

Lucy jolted back and Amy yanked herself forward.

John couldn't get a clear shot as Amy ran toward him, obscuring Lucy but he could see Lucy react, raising the knife to aim at her. John lowered his gun and sprinted, closing the gap as Lucy launched the knife…

A sizzling bolt of red shot from the top of the wall and impacted Lucy as she threw; she collapsed on the ground, stunned.

The knife sailed past John's head as he took down Amy with a desperate tackle. John felt the shock of the fall jar his body; the ground impacting his elbow, knee and hip as he landed on the rough concrete.

Amy gave a cry but she gripped him tightly.

He took a moment to recover his breath and checked Lucy was down. She remained crumpled in a heap on the ground. He raised his gaze and found Ronon on top of the wall, twirling his stunner with a confident swagger.

Ronon jumped down. 'You OK?'

John ignored his injuries as he got to his feet and helped Amy to hers. He debated whether to treat Amy as a potential spy; they hadn't ruled out her involvement although her conversations with Mitchell and Lucy had gone a long way to alleviating suspicion that she knew or was a willing participant under their brainwashing. He secured his weapon. 'Amy?'

'I'm fine.' She raised her scraped hand and gave a brave smile. 'Nothing a little disinfectant and a band aid won't cure anyway.'

John noted a thin cut on her neck from where the knife had caught her when she'd pulled away. She was also trembling he realised. Shock. He smiled reassuringly at her. 'We should get you to a medic.' He turned back to Ronon.

'I'll take care of this.' Ronon pointed down to Lucy with his weapon.

John nodded as Teal'c arrived in the alleyway. 'Thanks.' He waved at the Jaffa and placed his hand under Amy's elbow, ushering her back out of the alleyway. He made back to the café, ignoring the police cars that had arrived and cordoned off the area in line with their plan. They were barely at the door of the coffee shop when it opened and Mitchell hurried out.

Amy immediately pulled away from John and Mitchell stepped forward to tug her into an embrace.

'Are you OK?' Mitchell hugged her tightly for a long moment before he eased back, scanned her and grimaced. One hand rose to gently touch the cut on her neck. 'You're hurt.'

'I'm fine. Your friend saved my life.' Amy gestured back at John.

Mitchell threw him a grateful look.

'She did a good job of saving herself.' John replied easily. 'She needs to get checked out.' There was a warning in his words and he knew it struck home as Mitchell gave a terse nod before escorting her away to the waiting ambulance.

John watched him and sighed. He couldn't blame Mitchell for not keeping his distance especially when the evidence all seemed to point to Amy's innocence in what had happened. He wasn't sure he could have been objective if it had been Nancy, even after all the years they'd been apart. He shook himself and went to find Rodney.


	18. Chapter 18

Cam tried not to pace Amy's small den but it was hard to keep still. He glanced again at the clock. How long did it take to perform a za'tarc test anyway? He sighed and sat down on the leather sofa. He hunched over and pinched the bridge of his nose; there was a headache building behind his eyes.

It had taken all of his self-restraint and all of his patience to let John be the one to go after Lucy when she'd had Amy. But he'd remembered his conversation with Daniel and trusted John would bring Amy back – and John had. She'd been bruised; her knee and hand scraped from hitting hard concrete but she'd otherwise been unharmed bar the shock of Lucy's betrayal.

It hadn't taken one of Carolyn's people long at the scene to confirm that Amy wasn't a Goa'uld with the aid of advanced scanning technology. John had acquiesced to Cam escorting Amy home under the watchful eye of a team of Marines and Daniel so the za'tarc test could be administered. Paul Davis and a Tok'ra had arrived shortly after they had, and disappeared up the stairs with Amy. Cam had been shuttled into the den to wait.

He looked up hopefully at the sound of footsteps coming toward the door but it was only Daniel. His friend handed him a mug of coffee and took a seat beside him.

'You OK?' Daniel asked softly.

Cam glanced down at his bruised knuckles and shrugged. 'I'm fine.'

'That wasn't what I was referring to.' Daniel's raised eyebrow was a good imitation of Teal'c's.

'Just…worried.' Cam shook his head as he blew on the hot coffee. 'Amy didn't deserve to get caught up in all of this.'

Daniel nodded. 'It's not your fault.'

Cam knew that but it didn't make him feel better. 'I just hope…' he couldn't finish the sentence; that he hoped it had been Lucy manipulating Amy rather than brainwashing. He took another scalding sip of coffee. 'Did you speak to Teal'c?'

'Yeah,' Daniel wrapped his hands around his mug, 'Anne's out of surgery and doing well.' He frowned at Cam. 'The other Alliance operatives have all been transferred to the SGC for questioning about Lovell and the seventh member of the group. Hopefully, we'll be able to get them all.'

'You think I'm still in danger.' Cam surmised, leaning back and regarding Daniel fondly.

'I do.' Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. 'They've gone to too much trouble to give up just because the majority of the cell is in a, well, cell.' His nose wrinkled.

Cam smiled back at Daniel. 'I only need to get through the next week or so.' He shrugged. 'I think we've damaged them enough that they're not going to be able to make another attempt that quickly.'

'You should still be careful when you and Sheppard start your vacation again.' Daniel cautioned, sinking back into the comfortable cushions.

'Yes, Mom.' Cam said dutifully.

Daniel shot him a look. 'I'm beginning to think Sheppard must have the patience of a saint.'

'I would have thought his working with McKay would have been your first clue there.' Cam pointed out dryly.

Daniel snickered and took a gulp of his coffee. 'McKay's already gone back. Sheppard should be on his way here soon with Ronon.'

Cam nodded. He was half-way looking towards the clock again when the door opened and Davis stepped in.

'Colonel.' Davis said politely.

'Major.' Mitchell acknowledged him with a friendly smile as he stood up. 'How did it go?'

Daniel placed a hand on Cam's shoulder in support; Cam leaned into it gratefully.

'She passed the test.' Davis stated briskly. 'There's no sign of deception or false memories that we can detect.'

'So what now?' Cam asked.

'I've spoken with Colonel Carter and recommended that Ms Vandenberg remain in her residence with continued protection for the next two weeks.' Davis informed him. 'The Colonel and Ms Vandenberg have agreed to that.'

'Good.' Cam let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He knew Teal'c would stay and provide the protection if Cam asked and probably Ronon too. He owed Ronon a thank you for saving Amy.

'She wants to see you.' Davis said.

Cam nodded. 'I'll take her up some tea.' He left the room before Davis or Daniel could say anything more. He made his way into the sunny kitchen and tried to use the time it took to make the tea to collect his thoughts.

He knew it wasn't going to be the easiest conversation. He'd thought he'd been nervous about having their meeting overheard by everyone but there had been security, Cam realised, in knowing that he had an excuse to avoid answering. He didn't have that anymore and he owed Amy honesty especially after what she had been through. He picked up the tea and took a deep breath.

He knew the way to Amy's bedroom as well as he knew the way to his own; the number of steps down the hall, up the stairs, along the landing with its calming pale green walls and dark hardwood floor. He tapped softly on her door and entered at her call.

Amy sat at her vanity table, staring into the mirror as though she could find answers there. She'd showered; her hair hung loose and wet around her shoulders; her face was bare of make-up. She'd changed into jeans and an old sweatshirt, and looked young and vulnerable.

Cam felt his chest tighten with unexpected emotion. He closed the door behind him and walked over to place the tea on the table.

Amy thanked him gently and motioned for him to sit on the end of the bed facing her. 'I passed your tests.'

Cam ignored the accusatory 'your' as he cleared his throat to reply. 'I know.'

'You owe me an explanation.' She said fingering the delicate china of the mug he'd picked out for her.

'I know that too.' Cam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. 'I don't know where to start.'

Amy remained silent.

Her self-possession was one of the reasons he had been attracted to her, Cam mused wryly. 'After I called off the wedding, I decided to go on a flying holiday; cross-country in a single engine Cessna with a friend along as company.'

'John Sheppard.' Amy supplied.

Cam nodded. 'Anyway, our first stop, we got approached by a NID intelligence analyst who'd seen some chatter that concerned him. We took him seriously and worked out the Lucien Alliance was after me.'

'Like at the reunion?' asked Amy, finally picking up the tea and drinking it. Her expression softened when she realised he'd made it exactly the way she liked it.

'Mostly they want to take me alive so they can use me for…well, what doesn't matter, but to use me.' Cam sighed. 'We think they originally planned to take me captive on our honeymoon, probably using your life as leverage to get me to do what they wanted.'

'Our honeymoon.' Amy flinched and the tea-cup went back into the saucer with a clatter. She folded her arms around herself. 'That's probably why Lucy encouraged me to go to Paris. Only her name isn't Lucy is it?'

'Probably not.' Cam agreed calmly.

'She befriended me to get to you.' Amy continued. Her eyes caught his. 'Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?'

'I'm sorry.' Cam said the only thing he could think would help. 'I know that's not enough but…'

'No, no, that's not what I meant.' Amy crossed over the room quickly and put her hand on his arm tentatively. 'This isn't your fault, Cam. Just like it wasn't your fault at the reunion and I knew when I started seeing you that with the work that you do, something similar could happen.' She bit her lip. 'I never imagined Lucy…I feel so stupid for not seeing it.'

'She had me fooled too.' Cam picked up the hand on his arm and held it firmly.

'I feel like I let you down.' Amy said. 'I look back at the last year and…' she shuddered, 'I can see all the ways she manipulated me and talked me into things.' She looked down at their hands, and her thumb stroked over his. 'I told you the truth; I did propose because I thought we were on that path but…thinking about it, I would never have asked if Lucy hadn't pushed me into it.' Her eyes flew back to his. 'You would never have asked me, would you?'

Cam wanted to shift away from her shrewd gaze but he owed her the truth. 'No, not then.'

'And maybe not ever although we'll never know.' Amy completed with a sigh.

He winced. 'It was just…I was comfortable with the way we were.'

'I wondered what was going on in your head; that's why I talked with Lucy in the first place.' Amy said. 'When we first started dating you talked about wanting marriage and kids so I just assumed it was what you wanted with me, and when a year had gone by and you hadn't asked me…' she frowned, 'it's not like we're getting any younger, Cam.'

Cam frowned as he tried to remember when he had talked about marriage and kids – and suddenly remembered with a flinch. It had been during his recovery after getting beaten up by the replicators on the Odyssey. He'd been so battered physically and he'd been uncertain after the discussions with Carolyn and the specialists brought in to re-examine his old spinal and leg injuries whether he would make it back to full fitness for field duty. He'd allowed himself to consider giving up; settling down…clipping his wings.

'I thought one day you'd have the surgery the doctors wanted you to have and you'd take a desk job and…' Amy sighed. 'But you never really intended that, did you?'

Cam shook his head. 'I love my job. I love leading SG1, Amy. I don't want to give that up.'

'But you're going to have to give it up one day.' Amy pointed out softly. 'You told me the doctors said you couldn't put the surgery off indefinitely.'

The words hit him hard and for a second he lost his breath. He had told her that, Cam remembered dimly. He'd confided it one day when they'd taken a walk and he'd had to sit down to rest because his leg had cramped so badly and…

He sighed. He was fine. His fears had been just that fears; he'd regained his physical health and – OK, yes, he was feeling the aches and pains a lot more than he had when he'd first been made SG1 leader but it was part of the job. He ignored the small voice in the back of his head reminding him that Carolyn had raised the topic of the surgery again in his last physical.

'Did you think that I would push you to have the surgery if we got married?' Amy asked, breaking into his thoughts.

'Maybe.' Cam murmured with a lift of his shoulders. 'Mostly, I think I thought getting married meant I should get the surgery; should settle down and take a desk job.'

It meant changing his life; leaving SG1; giving up.

And he wouldn't do that. He couldn't.

'The reason I cancelled the wedding was really because I felt trapped, Amy.' Cam explained. 'And yes, the idea that I should make a decision about the surgery if I was getting married was part of a bigger idea that I should make a decision about settling down if I was getting married.'

'I wouldn't have pushed you.' Amy declared defensively.

'Why not?' Cam asked bluntly, turning to look at her fully. 'That's one of the things I couldn't figure, Amy; if marriage and kids was what you wanted, why weren't you pushing me to get out of the field?'

Amy opened her mouth and snapped it shut again. A contemplative look settled over her attractive features. 'Good question.' The fingers of her free hand, the one wrapped in a bandage, tapped out a discordant rhythm on the grey sweatpants. 'I think,' she said eventually, 'that, deep down, I knew it wasn't what you wanted. That I'd pushed you once with asking you to marry me and if I pushed you again…' She shrugged and sighed. 'You'd do what you did and cancel the whole thing.'

'I'm really very sorry.' Cam said.

'No, you're not.' Amy contradicted and pulled out of his hold gently. She moved away, pacing across the room. 'Why didn't you tell me you had doubts?'

Cam considered his words as he dragged a hand through his hair. 'I didn't know how.' He said finally. 'At first, I convinced myself that I was simply surprised because you'd been the one to propose and…'

'And you're a traditional man.' Amy wrapped her arms around her middle.

'And then by the time I realised it wasn't just surprise…I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner.' Cam sighed. 'I didn't want to hurt you…'

'So you thought it was best leaving it until the last minute before telling me that you didn't want to marry me?' Amy snapped back sharply. 'Cam, if you'd left it any later, you would have left me at the altar. As it was, you only gave me five days to cancel everything.' She sighed. 'I guess I should have known when you insisted that you'd fly out alone and your team would come the day of the wedding.'

Cam flushed, the hot blush rushing over his cheeks and neck. 'I know there's no way that I can apologise for not being honest with you as soon as I knew I was having doubts.'

Amy wrenched her gaze away from his. She meandered back to the chair in front of the vanity table and sat down again. 'Did you ever love me?'

Cam reached over and took her head in his. 'I do love you, Amy. I just…'

'Don't love me enough to marry me.' Amy tangled their fingers together even as he dropped his gaze, ashamed at her accuracy. 'You know I think on some level I knew.'

'Daniel thinks on some level I knew the Alliance was trying to trap me.' Cam murmured. 'He thinks that's why I felt trapped.'

Amy stared at him.

'What?' asked Cam, taken aback by her frown.

'Did you talk to Daniel about us?' Amy asked.

Cam shook his head. 'Not until after. I didn't talk to anyone until…I unloaded on Sheppard.'

'I didn't realise he was that good a friend.' Amy said.

'We're not,' Cam admitted with a rueful smile, 'but he put up with me unloading on him anyway. John's a good man.'

'He saved my life.' Amy agreed. 'Him and the guy who shot Lucy.'

'Stunned.' Cam corrected. 'Ronon's weapon stuns people.'

'Like Star Trek?' Amy's eyebrows rose. 'Stunning wasn't good enough for her.' She grimaced; her cheeks pale. 'When I think of how much I confided in her…how much she influenced me.'

'She won't be bothering you again.' Cam promised.

Amy nodded briskly. Her eyes lifted back to his, concerned. 'What about you? Are you going to be safe now? The Major said there was still a risk for the next two weeks.'

'I'll be OK.' Cam assured her. 'We took out most of the cell today and I'm on leave so they can't get to me easily.'

'And you'll have Sheppard protecting you.' Amy said but the worried look didn't go away.

Cam smiled though to reassure her. 'He's good company.'

'Flying cross-country.' Amy sighed but she finally smiled; a small quirk of her lips but it was there. 'You must be in heaven.'

'I needed to get my head straight.' Cam prevaricated. 'Speaking of which, I should probably head downstairs and see where John's at.'

Amy nodded.

They got to their feet and Cam pulled her into his arms for an awkward hug.

'I'm so glad you're OK.' Cam whispered in her ear.

Amy hugged back tightly. 'Just…just take care of yourself.' She pulled back and ducked her head to hide her tears. 'Friends?'

'Friends.' Cam confirmed, brushing a thumb over her cheek. 'I wish…'

'Don't.' Amy placed her hand over his and held his eyes so he could see her sincerity.

'You're too good for me anyway.' Cam said, attempting another smile but it fell away before it took.

'Call me when you get to wherever it is you're going next?' Amy asked cautiously. 'I'll worry otherwise and…'

'I'll call you when I get to my place.' Cam agreed. He hugged her again gently and kissed her temple. 'You'll have people here watching over you but if you need me…'

'I'll call.' Amy promised.

Cam let go of her and left the bedroom. All in all, he considered dryly, the talk could have gone worse. He rubbed his right hip absently as he made his way down the stairs. There were voices coming from the open door to the den.

He recognised John's and hurried inside. He took in the four men in one sweep; Daniel sat on the sofa where he had been sat when Cam had left; Teal'c stood in front of it and Ronon lounged against a wall near Teal'c. John sat on the other armchair but got to his feet as soon as Cam entered.

'Hey.' John nodded to him. His hazel eyes ran over Cam as though assessing injuries. 'OK?'

Cam gave a brief nod.

'How's Amy?' Daniel asked.

'Good. Shook up a little.' Cam said succinctly. 'Everything cleaned up at the coffee shop?'

'We're done.' John said. 'The Alliance operatives are all at the SGC in cells. So far they haven't talked.'

'That will change.' Teal'c said firmly. His dark eyes glittered.

Ronon smirked.

Cam exchanged an amused look with Daniel and John.

'Teldy's awake.' John continued. 'She apologised for Keene getting the drop on her and grabbing Amy. I told her she has lessons with Teyla to look forward to in her future.'

Cam's lips twitched. 'It wasn't her fault.'

'Yes, it was.' Ronon said implacably.

Cam opened his mouth to protest again but John gave a small shake of his head.

'Rodney's going over the laptop I shot.' John said dryly. 'He thinks he can rescue the data.' He nodded toward Daniel. 'He might need your help with that. His Goa'uld is rusty.'

Daniel stood up. 'I'll beam straight to Atlantis then.'

'The SGC.' John grinned as Daniel's face fell. 'Sam had him diverted.'

'Any news on where Lovell and the seventh member are?' Cam questioned. It made sense to tie up the loose ends.

'Southern hemisphere.' John said. 'Other than that?' He shrugged. 'We still need to track Lovell down too.'

'She's probably gone to ground.' Daniel murmured.

'Ronon and I will remain with Amy Vandenbeg.' Teal'c informed Cam.

Cam nodded. 'Thanks. I appreciate that.' He turned to Ronon. 'And thanks for saving her today.'

Ronon shrugged away his gratitude. 'She made it easy for me to take the shot.'

John tilted his head toward the door. 'If you're ready, we should head out.'

Cam caught the weariness present in the lines on John's face and agreed. It was time to get back to their leave. There was a succession of goodbyes and Cam felt drained, quietly reassuring Teal'c and Daniel that he was fine before he followed John out of the door and into the rental car.

They made the journey to the airfield in silence and only exchanged necessary information as they changed in the lockers into fresh jeans and t-shirt before they started the mechanical check. It was a companionable silence. Cam watched as John's tension drained away with each passing minute and he could feel his own muscles loosening under the lack of pressure to talk; to do anything but focus on the plane.

It was good that he'd talked with Amy, Cam mused; he opened a bottle of water and swallowed half of it down. Confessing the whole truth to Amy about his feelings on their relationship had settled something inside of him. He'd made a mistake and she had deserved better treatment but they seemed to have left each other in a good place at the end of their talk; friends.

He'd take friendship.

His mind drifted over the discussion again and careened away as it registered why she'd thought he'd want to get married and have kids; the pain and physical condition he'd been in when he'd babbled at her during his recovery; when he'd been desperately trying to put a good spin on a life he could lead if he wasn't the SG1 leader, if he couldn't physically keep up.

It was getting harder, Cam silently admitted to himself as they finally took their places in the cockpit and taxied out to the runway and finally took to the air.

He sometimes wondered that O'Neill had managed to continue in the field as long as he had but then he reminded himself, O'Neill hadn't smashed a 302 into an ice field and damaged his body almost beyond repair. He hadn't had to learn to walk again; to strengthen his spine with metal and pins; with multiple surgeries and…

He cut that thought off as he felt his muscles start to tense again. He shifted restlessly.

'You want to fly?' asked John.

'You won the bet.' Cam reminded him with an easy grin. 'I'm fine.' And he was because John needed to fly to completely relax; to lose the look of a man burdened with too much responsibility – and Cam could wait since it was his fault John had been pushed back into service on his vacation. 'Besides, it's only a short flight,' he added, 'and I want the majority of the flight tomorrow.'

'You have to win first.' John smirked.

'And I will,' promised Cam lightly, 'as soon as I think up another story that is good enough that you won't trump it.'

John harrumphed quietly and turned his attention back to the sky with a small smile on his face.

Cam let himself enjoy the flight; the faint vibration of the engine through the plane, the sounds of the wind and creak of the plane, the miniscule movements that John made to correct the altitude and the wing balance as they kept on course. They swapped when they were almost there to give John a break and allow Cam his reduced flight time but Cam handed the stick back as they approached and requested permission to land at the private airfield.

The lights of the single runaway formed reassuringly ahead of them and Cam held his breath minutely as John brought the plane down, landing with a skill that made Cam envious even as he watched John's technique and determined it was eighty per cent skill and twenty per cent sheer instinct.

Cam stretched as John taxied towards the waiting open hangar, a pool of light spilling out onto the tarmac showing the way. It was late but not too late, Cam thought idly as his eyes took in the two mechanics in Sheppard International uniforms waving them forward; the hangar door closing behind them. They'd get the rental and drive to Cam's; maybe they could pick-up a pizza on the way or Thai, he was in the mood for something spicy and…

A sudden movement to the left caught Cam's eye – the glint of light hitting the barrel of a gun. He was reaching for his before he could register they were under attack.

The hard rattle of gunfire pounded against the side of the plane…the mechanics pulled weapons on them in front and Cam yanked John down as bullets cracked the windshield.

John hit his earpiece. 'Odyssey, this is Sheppard requesting emergency immediate beam-out!'

The white light surrounded them; the lurch of disorientation made Cam's stomach churn as the light faded leaving them standing upright.

It only took a moment to realise it wasn't the Odyssey before the woman in front of the pack of Alliance guards smiled with smug satisfaction.

'What the hell…' Cam muttered in bewilderment. He made to shoot but even as he brought his weapon to bear, he saw the arcing bolts of blue zat fire heading towards them…

The pain snapped through his body without mercy and Cam felt himself falling before the blessed relief of darkness took him.


	19. Chapter 19

Sam tried not to laugh at the faintly disgusted look on Jack's face as he watched Rodney and Daniel bickering over the computer in the corner of Daniel's office. Sam looked around briefly taking in the homey clutter of ancient objects and breathed in the scent of dust and parchment; ink and age.

Jack sat on a stool watching the two men; his arms were crossed over his green BDU shirt. She nudged his elbow with hers as she slid onto the stool beside him.

His dark eyes met hers and warmed affectionately; his whole body loosening almost imperceptibly with her presence. 'You OK, Carter?'

'I'll be glad when General Landry's back and I can fully concentrate on the Hammond.' Sam admitted with a tired sigh.

Jack's gaze flickered back meaningfully towards Daniel and Rodney. 'I can't say I blame you.'

'How're they doing?' Sam asked quietly.

'I think Daniel's winning the argument but as I have no idea what they're arguing about…' he gave a shrug. 'Why did I have to be here for this again?'

' _You_ wanted to find out the intelligence on the Lucien Alliance as soon as Daniel and Rodney got the contents of the laptop recovered.' Sam reminded him.

'Right.' Jack's head tilted towards her; his eyes crinkling at the corners. 'Any sign of the five we have in custody cracking?'

'Davis and Reynolds are still in with them.' Sam reported crisply. 'Nothing yet though.' She chewed her lip thoughtfully. 'They're all too calm given the situation.' She sighed. 'I think I might ask Teal'c to come back for an hour; see if he can get anything out of them.'

'I could have a go.' Jack offered casually.

Sam shook her head, smiling. 'I don't want to give them the impression that they're that important that they merit the Head of Homeworld Security.'

Jack huffed but she could see the gleam of approval in his eyes.

Sam turned her thoughts back to the issue at hand. By all accounts, bar Anne Teldy's injury, the trap had been a success, but Sam wondered if it would be enough to put off another attack, and she couldn't help the feeling that they were missing something. They were still trying to trace the missing members of the cell including the seventh mysterious unidentified member who was somewhere on a boat in the Southern hemisphere. They hadn't gotten anything out of the operatives and their only other sources of information were the cell phone and the shot up laptop that the tech guy had been using at the coffee shop. At least, John and Cam were planning to take the precautions they had previously, using the earpieces and changing their destinations regularly.

She tuned into Daniel and Rodney's stream of chatter. Rodney had managed to get through the encryption on the hard drive – that was good – and they were arguing about the contents of the folders – or lack of content.

'Daniel, Rodney,' Sam raised her voice so it would carry across the room, 'what do you mean there's nothing in the folders?'

'Exactly that!' Rodney turned to her without missing a beat, his finger pointing back at the computer. 'There's no data. The laptop is clean.'

'Deleted?' Sam asked, frowning.

'No; clean.' Rodney emphasised waving a hand at it. 'There's nothing on it.'

'Maybe it's encrypted.' Daniel offered again, sitting down.

Rodney glared at him. 'I got through the encryption. There's nothing there apart from the jamming program.'

'If you'd gotten through the encryption, there'd be something.' Daniel huffed out, folding his arms over his chest as his blue eyes glinted mutinously behind the panes of glass.

'It's clean! That's why there's nothing there! How many times do I have to say it!' Rodney snapped, his cheeks flushing red with frustration.

'We should get some popcorn.' Jack murmured in Sam's ear.

She struggled not to smile but she knew if she did, Rodney would think she was laughing at him. She stood up instead. 'Daniel,' she began, 'if Rodney says he got through the encryption, he got through the encryption.'

'Thank you!' Rodney stated loudly, sending a smug look in Daniel's direction.

'So, we have a clean laptop set up only with the jamming program.' Sam stated, turning it over in her mind. Her eyes met Daniel's across the room as they both came to the same conclusion.

'Of course…' Daniel began excitedly.

'It makes sense.' Sam agreed, moving over to stand beside them.

'What?' Rodney asked, his gaze darting to Daniel then to Sam and back again.

'But if that's true…' Sam murmured, ignoring Rodney's rolling eyes.

'Then we have to assume…' Daniel continued as Rodney slumped against the computer table with a muttered 'why me.'

'Hey!' Jack yelled, grabbing all of their attention. He leaned forward. 'Anyone want to tell me what's going on?'

Sam blushed as she realised she'd ignored him. 'There's only one reason why they'd use a clean computer…'

'Clean meaning they sent it out to the dry cleaners?' Jack interrupted without apology.

Rodney straightened. 'Clean as in the laptop was brand new.' He explained. 'The operating system was installed today.' He suddenly frowned at the monitor and began typing rapidly on the keyboard.

'OK,' Jack said slowly, 'so they brought along a clean laptop which means…'

'That they knew there was the possibility that they could get captured and planned for it,' Daniel finished, 'which means it's very likely that they must have had a back-up plan for taking Mitchell in the event that we took down this group.'

'They must have another cell.' Sam suggested. 'One that Lovell didn't know about.'

'Well, tactically that makes sense.' Jack agreed, leaning forward over the bench. He raised a scarred eyebrow. 'If Lovell was the handler for this cell, that leaves the seventh member we can't find as the big enchilada.'

Daniel winced but nodded. 'Who probably has another team waiting in the wings ready to deploy.'

'But if we find him,' Jack waved a hand at Sam's hard look, 'or her,' he allowed, 'then we could take down the whole operation.'

'I'll check on the satellite trace. Daniel, can you inform John and Cam because they need to know…' Sam said, beginning to move back to the door.

'Wait!' Rodney ordered. 'I've found something.' He glanced over his shoulder. 'The jamming program isn't a jamming program.' He paused. 'Well, it is a jamming program but that's not the interesting thing.'

They all looked at him expectantly.

'Rodney?' Sam prompted; annoyance surging through her.

'Right.' Rodney moistened his lips and gestured at the computer. 'There's an uplink instruction to the Odyssey's beaming program embedded in the code but not activated.'

Sam's eyes snapped to his. 'The Odyssey.'

'Yes.' Rodney looked over at her with tired eyes. 'Reading this, I think the call must have been confirmation that someone on the Odyssey was prepared to accept the uplink.'

'But why?' Daniel asked, frowning.

'The beaming technology,' answered Rodney promptly. 'I think they planned to uplink to the Odyssey and use the beaming technology to transport everyone in a specified radius.'

'So, if Sheppard hadn't hit the laptop…' Daniel began in horror.

'They would have beamed everyone within the coffee shop to who knows where.' Rodney completed.

'They have to have someone on the Odyssey.' Sam said with a dry mouth. Her eyes shifted to Jack. 'We need to lock the ship down.'

Jack nodded sharply and jumped off the stool. 'I'd better go call Vidrine.'

Sam nodded briskly. 'SG3 and SG13 can go to the Odyssey and take control of the lockdown protocol. I'll get Teal'c here to talk with the guy who had the laptop; he might know who his opposite number is.'

'I should head up there too.' Rodney said. 'You're going to need someone do a full system check.'

'Sounds like a plan.' Jack noted.

They were at the door when the alarms sounded. Sam ignored the flash of anxiety that streamed through her as she ran for the control room, beating the others there.

'Report!' She ordered.

The technician, Andrea, waved a hand at the monitor where the red-headed Colonel Morrow stared out at her with a sneering expression. 'It's the Odyssey, ma'am. They're using the emergency channel.'

'Colonel.' Sam said shortly, feeling Jack take up residence at her elbow; Daniel hovered just behind as Rodney ushered Andrea away from the computer much as Sam would have done herself if she wasn't in command.

'Colonel.' Morrow tensed as he took in Jack. 'General.' His eyes slid back to Sam and he didn't bother to hide his irritation at having to talk with her. 'Approximately, thirty minutes ago, there was some kind of explosions in engineering. I have two dead; four others are injured. Both our ability to transport using the Asgard beam and most of our communications systems have been compromised.'

Sam let out a huff of breath. They'd been too late working it out, she realised. The Alliance operative aboard must have suspected they'd be caught and arranged something to distract them while they escaped.

'Unfortunately,' Morrow continued, 'I regret to inform you that the incident occurred shortly after we received a communication from Colonel Sheppard asking for an immediate beam-out.'

'Sheppard requested a beam-out?' Rodney turned to her hurriedly. 'Sam, if John was worried enough…'

She gestured for him to shut up for a moment; they needed to get all the facts.

'Was the beam-out successful?' Sam asked Morrow.

'No.' Morrow said.

Which meant that Cam and John had been left to face whatever attack had prompted the request alone.

'Rodney, we need their co-ordinates now.' Sam ordered swiftly.

Rodney tapped onto the computer and she realised he was accessing the Atlantis network for the sensor readings.

'Colonel…' Morrow began, evidently annoyed that her attention was no longer on him.

'Just a moment, Colonel.' Sam said without looking. She repressed the urge to shove Rodney away and complete the search herself. It was his friend in danger too, she told herself briskly; and he had more experience with Atlantis' computers than she did.

'Oh God.' Rodney said, his fingers freezing on the keyboard.

'What?' Jack asked impatiently.

Sam read the results over his shoulder and felt her heart stutter. 'The Atlantis sensors aren't picking them up any longer.' Her mind whirled through the possibilities; the Alliance wanted Cam alive so they had to be alive; she had to hold onto that thought. She placed a comforting hand on Rodney's shoulder. 'Rodney, how far extended are the sensors?'

'North America.' Rodney answered immediately. His eyes widened as he realised what her question inferred. 'You think they've been transported outside of the States.'

'Which means that they must have been transported before the beaming technology was put out of operation.' Daniel stated, catching on fast to Sam's own conclusions.

'And they probably did that deliberately so we couldn't follow them.' Sam said grimly. She turned back to the monitor. 'Morrow, we need the last known beaming coordinates from the Odyssey databank.'

'The explosions took out our systems.' Morrow shot back. 'And both my beaming technology experts including Novak are in the infirmary.'

Sam swivelled again. 'McKay, pull together whoever and whatever you need. You're leaving in fifteen minutes in the puddle jumper with SG3 to get to the Odyssey. I want you to get me those coordinates and fix the communications and beaming technology.'

'On it.' Rodney was out of his chair before he finished the sentence.

Sam nodded to Reynolds who had stayed out of the way in a corner of the control room and he left to organise his team. She motioned at Andrea.

'I want call in checks with the protection details on Mitchell's family and fiancée now.'

'Yes, ma'am.' The technical moved away to the phones; Daniel followed after her.

Sam straightened her shoulders and looked determinedly at the monitor. She knew Morrow was going to have a fit over the order but that wasn't her concern. 'Colonel Morrow, as of now the Odyssey is on lockdown. Nobody leaves; secure the 302 bay and ensure all are accounted for. Doctor McKay will be with you shortly along with SG3 to help fix the beaming technology and SG3 will help you with the lockdown security protocol. Is that understood?'

Morrow bristled as she knew he would. 'You don't have the authority…'

'Actually, I do as acting commander of the SGC and the Stargate programme.' Sam replied mildly but firmly. Her eyes glinted dangerously. If Morrow disobeyed her order she'd have him arrested, put in the brig and she'd give the command to Lieutenant Colonel Marks. She only wished she could do that anyway.

'Very well but I want to formally protest.' Morrow snapped.

'Your protest is noted.' Sam said coolly. She nodded to terminate the communication and the monitor went blank. She let out a small sigh of relief and brought up Rodney's search results again, backtracking to the last known coordinates. It was the Sheppard's airfield.

'I want the second puddle jumper prepped and ready to go now. SG13 and 24 need to be topside in fifteen minutes to head to those coordinates. I'll be joining them.' She pointed at the monitor and the aide she had ordered ran off to execute it.

'Sam!' Daniel slammed down the phone. 'Mitchell's parents are at the farm but Amy is missing. Teal'c said she'd retired to her bedroom and they didn't see her leave.'

'She was probably beamed out.' Sam muttered. 'Get suited up. We're leaving. Once we're dropped off at the airfield. You can take the puddle jumper and retrieve Teal'c and Ronon; meet us back there.' She moved to finally look at Jack. 'Can you handle the President for me?'

'Just the President?' Jack quipped lightly.

'You need to call General Vidrine too, and probably someone should update Richard and General Landry.' Sam said, already walking towards the staircase.

Jack sighed as he placed a hand on the small of her back. 'Why do I get all of the non-fun jobs?'

'Because you're the boss.' Sam smiled at him despite the worry pressing down on her and she appreciated his touch. It was as much as they allowed themselves on duty but it helped ground her.

She left Jack in her office and made for the private locker room she had access to as the acting head of the SGC. She changed quickly, aware of the deadlines she had set everyone else and was pleased when she was only a minute late climbing into the puddle jumper.

She acknowledged the teams and Daniel with a nod as she made her way to the passenger seat at the front and gave the order to lift off.

Daniel moved to the seat behind her. 'You know there is another reason why the sensors wouldn't be picking up Mitchell and Sheppard any longer.'

Sam's lips tightened. She knew that if they were dead their signatures would have blinked out. 'I know.'

'So…'

'So, we have to check but Rodney needs to be focused on finding them.' Sam admitted. She had to see for herself whether they were dead or not. She didn't believe that they were – not really. The Alliance wanted Mitchell alive to lead them to Landry and the spy too much, and acquiring John a bonus. But there was the possibility…

'Someone had to give away their location.' Daniel mused out loud, scratching the line between his brows. 'You think it was Amy?'

'The za'tarc test isn't a hundred per cent reliable,' Sam blushed as she remembered how they'd found that out; the ordeal of realising that the za'tarc test had discovered the unspoken truth about her feelings about Jack and his for her, 'and really it's not good at detecting certain types of brainwashing.'

'Or she's not brainwashed and she simply informed them herself.' Daniel said.

'Well, we're assuming Cam told her where he and John were headed.' Sam shook her head, sending the loose strands from her French plait flying. 'I can't see Cam doing that. She might still be an innocent in all this and they've taken her to blackmail Cam into doing what they want.'

'Which leaves the employees involved in arranging the airfield clearances at Sheppard International as the possible traitors.' Daniel said. 'They had to have known.'

'Maybe but it's likely if they did that they didn't understand the implications of leaking it.' Sam sighed. 'Or it could have been a lucky guess that Cam would stop in Colorado because it's home. We'll know more when we get there.' She shifted restlessly. 'We should have considered the possibility of more than one cell.'

'I'm not sure it would have made a difference.' Daniel commented. 'We took all the reasonable precautions we could; so did Mitchell and Sheppard. There's no way we could have predicted the Alliance getting a foothold on the Odyssey and turning the beaming technology against us. Honestly, I'm surprised that they haven't got it themselves since Ba'al had it.'

'Ba'al never liked sharing.' Sam pointed out dryly.

'Ma'am, ETA two minutes.' The Sergeant interrupted.

'Run full scans.' Sam ordered and frowned as the results snapped into holographic view above the control panel.

Dixon inched forward and grimaced. 'It looks abandoned.' He paused. 'No life signs.'

'How do you want to play this, Colonel?' Sam asked. Dixon had years more experience than she did and she was happy to acquiesce to his plan.

'SG24 can secure the perimeter; my team and you can take the hangar.' Dixon suggested.

'Agreed.' She snapped a look at Major Doyle, the leader of SG24, who answered 'yes, sir' smartly back. She turned to the Sergeant. 'You need to collect Teal'c and Ronon from Kansas. Stay cloaked and don't let anybody see you.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Sam gave a sharp nod. 'Let's do this.'

They landed on the airstrip; light from the runway casting them in broken shards of light and shadow. There was a swell of air as the cloaked jumper took off again.

Sam aimed her P90 and crept forward alongside Dixon to the hangar door. They rested against the wall. Sam felt her body humming with the usual adrenaline and took a calming breath as she watched Dixon's hand signals; go on three; he'd go high, she should go low. She nodded and kept her eyes on his hand as he counted down.

The team moved like a well-oiled unit into the darkened hangar; the flashlights on their weapons the only light. They scoped out the corners and the hidey-holes, swiftly and with purpose; Sam swallowed hard as her light caught on the bullet holes adorning the plane. She kept her mind focused and blank, refusing to give into the small tremor of terror of what she would find inside, as she opened up the door. It took less than a minute to check that the plane was empty too.

They were gone. There were no bodies. It looked like the guess that John and Cam had been transported out was correct. She breathed out a shaky breath as various calls of 'clear' came from around the large space. She called out her own and heard Dixon order one of his men to find the lights.

The sudden brightness made her wince. The carnage looked worse in the harsh fluorescents; the plane had been shot up badly. Very badly. But not the cockpit, Sam realised as her brain got past the concern. She moved back inside the plane and checked the cockpit. Nothing. Sam inched back out and made her way over to Dixon.

'We have three bodies out back; two mechanics, who are both stripped to their underwear, and a guy who looks like the manager.' Dixon informed her briskly. 'It looks like the Alliance took over the airfield, allowed them to land, waved them in here and then…' he thrust his thumb towards the wrecked plane. 'Shame too because she's a beauty. Sheppard's going to be pissed.'

Sam's radio crackled. 'Perimeter is secure, Colonel, but we have a car at the gate with four individuals claiming to be from Sheppard International's security. They claim they were dispatched following the triggering of hidden alarms.'

'Roger that; send them through and I'll talk with them. Out.' Sam motioned at Dixon. 'I want a forensic search of the premises. Let's see if they left us any kind of clue.'

'Yes, ma'am.' Dixon agreed and walked away to order his team.

Sam went out to greet the approaching car. She held her weapon loosely but firmly. She didn't want to shoot them if they were actually Sheppard International employees. Jack would have gotten their presence at the airfield cleared with the President but legally they were on very shaky ground being there at all.

The black SUV pulled up; three men and a woman climbed out. The driver, the woman and the other man who had been in the back seat hung back. The guy who had exited from the passenger seat made his way to her; tall, in his forties, dark hair cropped short – and he was holding a cell phone to his ear.

'My boss wants to talk to you.' He said, extending the phone.

Sam nodded. He grinned at her. She took the phone with her free hand, keeping hold of her weapon with the other – a move not lost on the guy in front of her.

'This is Colonel Carter.' Sam said formally.

'This is David Sheppard.' John's brother snapped back. 'What the hell is going on?'

Sam sighed and moved away from her audience. 'There was an incident at the airfield when Colonels Sheppard and Mitchell arrived. I regret to inform you that three of your employees have been killed in the crossfire. We're here to investigate.'

'I want to speak to my brother.'

'I'm afraid your brother is missing at the present time.' Sam replied with a wince.

'He's missing! Who took him? Was it the…people your Major Davis informed me about? Is there a rescue…there is a rescue plan, right? You're not just going to leave him and…'

'Mister Sheppard,' Sam broke into the panicked babble, 'all I can tell you is that we're going to do everything we can to get John back. The rest is classified.'

'Please.' Dave said immediately. 'He's my brother. I can't…I need to help. Don't you have a brother? Or a sister?'

'I have a brother and yes,' Sam forestalled his argument, 'if he was missing I would want to be involved.' She debated it briefly before she sighed. 'I'll have someone come and brief you fully, but in exchange I need your full cooperation. It's likely the information about your brother's whereabouts was leaked by someone in your organisation.'

'You'll have it. If you could please pass the phone back to Mr Kelly.' Dave replied in a calmer tone.

'Thank you.' Sam walked back to Kelly and gave him the phone. She stared up at the night sky. They would find the two men; they would. She only hoped it wouldn't be too late.


	20. Chapter 20

John came awake abruptly and only his training had him keeping still and his breathing even. A sharp pain arrowed through his forehead but he stifled the groan in his throat. He kept his eyes closed and assessed his situation through the rest of his senses first.

He was lying on a cold metal grille. The edges were hard and digging into his naked flesh.

Naked flesh.

That wasn't good. He took an inventory and realised he had no clothing but his snug black briefs. They'd stripped him. His wrists were bare of the leather bracelet and the watch he usually wore. The familiar earpiece was gone and there was no weight around his neck. The absence of his dog tags made him feel very vulnerable as though they'd stripped him of his identity in the act.

That was the point, John reminded himself. Prisoners were stripped and divested of personal items to make them feel vulnerable and off balance. He took a calming breath and continued his assessment.

He didn't think they'd been beaten up too badly; his body ached but he figured that was from the zat stun that had sent him to the ground. Maybe more bruising on his knee, hip and elbow from the fall, John guessed. There were no ropes or chains binding him. He would be free to move so he was probably in a cell – and not alone. He couldn't feel Mitchell next to him but he could hear him breathing – slowly and evenly so his friend was likely unconscious.

John focused on his hearing again. There was a heavy engine thrumming underneath him; the vibrations jolting almost imperceptibly through the grille. The sound was wrong for a plane; John knew that instantly. He concentrated calling to mind the room they had transported into, and wondered if they were on a boat. That would make sense, he mused, because they'd believed the seventh member of the cell had been on a boat.

He couldn't hear anything else; nobody else seemed to be in the room with them so no immediate guard. He cautiously opened his eyes. His vision swam for a moment until he blinked rapidly to adjust for the darkness and he took in his surroundings. The walls were metal; no window; there was a narrow strip of light near to the ground on his left that indicated the presence of the door. It provided the only light source to dissipate the darkness and allow John to make sense of the shadows. He turned his head slowly.

Mitchell was lying on the other side of the room; similarly stripped of everything but a pair of boxers and looking as vulnerable as John felt.

John took another breath and warily got to his feet. His stomach lurched and he steadied himself against the wall, the metal cold and unyielding against his palm. He breathed in deeply and wondered if the nausea was the underlying motion of the boat or a side effect from the zat gun. He checked over his body and noted the deep bruising on his hip; the scrape on his elbow. But otherwise he was uninjured.

'OK, John.' John whispered to himself. 'So far, so good.' If he ignored the being naked, captured and locked in a room situation. He managed to step over to Mitchell and crouched down carefully next to him to assess his condition.

Mitchell's knees seemed to have borne the brunt of the impact; both looked swollen and red. That wasn't good; if Mitchell had trouble walking it could impede any escape attempt they would make. His eyes flitted over the faint silvery lines of old scars and John winced inwardly at the visible sign of how much damage Mitchell's legs had already taken in the line of duty. He checked over the rest of Mitchell quickly but apart from a couple of cuts and bruises on his arms, there was no other sign of injury and his pulse was strong.

John started to make a tour of the room, using his hands to sketch over the walls tentatively in case he came into contact with something sharp. All he found was more metallic walls. He was able to make out the door but he knew trying it would alert someone that he was awake and he decided the longer he and Mitchell remained unmolested the better.

He also established that there were no bathroom facilities or running water of any kind in the room. That was bad. It made them reliant on their captors for basic dignity and for survival. John wasn't so much worried about basic dignity; it was humiliating to be left to soil the room where they were kept but it wasn't life threatening. The lack of water was.

John chewed on his lip for a while before conceding that their captors knew what they were doing. They would have to wait and see what happened. He started to make his way to the far wall.

Mitchell groaned and John diverted to go back to him. He crouched beside him again and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder.

'Mitchell.'

Mitchell gave another weak groan. His eyes flickered open gradually until they settled on John. John could see Mitchell start making his own assessments as he stayed quiet for a long moment.

Mitchell rolled onto his back and John withdrew his hand, staying ready though to help Mitchell if he needed support. Mitchell got upright and winced visibly as he placed his weight on his legs.

'Fuck.' Mitchell whispered.

John grimaced at the language; it meant the pain was bad if Mitchell was swearing. 'Can you walk?' He kept his own voice low. Hopefully, whoever was outside would be hard of hearing.

'Hobble?' Mitchell gasped. He flailed out with one hand and John took it, quickly shifting to wrap an arm around Mitchell's waist and help him to the wall. Mitchell sat breathing heavily for a long while before he collected himself. 'So how screwed are we?'

'Metal walls. No windows. There's a vent just above our heads on the other wall but it looks too small for us to fit. One door.' John reported briskly despite keeping his voice just above audible. He sat down beside Mitchell. 'I haven't tried it.'

'Good thinking.' Mitchell said easing his legs out in front of him. 'I take it they've only left us with, uh, our underwear?'

John nodded. 'They're pretty good at this.'

'Yep.' Mitchell breathed in deeply and his left hand crept down to massage the abused flesh of his knee.

'Are you going to be OK for an escape attempt?' John asked bluntly.

'I'll crawl if I have to.' Mitchell stated with enough determination that John believed him.

'I think we're on a boat.' John continued. 'They must have had someone on the Odyssey.'

'Not to mention another cell in play.' Mitchell added. 'Those guys that attacked us at the airfield.'

'Yeah.' John felt a surge of guilt. They should have thought of that and come up with a different plan; a better plan than the one he'd come up with. Instead, they'd gone with his plan, missed vital information and ended up captured.

'This wasn't your fault.' Mitchell's quiet words jerked John out of his contemplation.

'My mission, Mitchell; my responsibility.' John retorted, folding his arms over his chest. The goose bumps breaking out along his forearms made him realise he was cold. His activity had kept him warm but the room was cool. They weren't going to suffer from hypothermia any time soon but it was uncomfortable.

'We wouldn't even have attempted a mission if I hadn't decided I couldn't wait for them to attack first.' Mitchell grimaced. 'And nobody anticipated them having someone on the Odyssey to intercept the emergency beam-out.' He sighed. 'I guess we can't assume that we're going to be beamed out any time soon.'

'Rodney will find us.' John said confidently.

'The Atlantis sensors.' Mitchell remembered, changing hands and legs; his right hand massaging his right knee.

'Um, no.' John grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 'Those only tracked us in the States and since the last time we heard the seventh member was on a boat somewhere in the South hemisphere…'

'So, how's Rodney going to find us?' Mitchell asked clearly bemused.

'He'll come up with something.' John said again. He nudged Mitchell's arm. 'You don't think Sam won't find us if Rodney can't?'

Mitchell's expression cleared as he got the message; their teams would be doing everything they could to find them.

'We just need to stay alive long enough for them to find us.' John continued. 'Or, you know, find a way off the boat ourselves.'

Mitchell rested his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. 'Before we got stunned I recognised the woman leader; it's Allia.'

'Allia.' John's eyes widened. 'Allia as in the Allia who is supposedly secreted somewhere with Landry?'

'That would be the one.' Mitchell frowned and lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. 'Either Landry was duped by someone pretending to be her or…'

'Or he's somewhere on the boat.' John finished. He turned it over in his head. 'I don't think he's here. Landry calls in for reports with the SGC and Homeworld Security. If he was being coerced, he would have used a code word.'

'Maybe he's brainwashed.' Mitchell pointed out.

John acknowledged the issue. 'I still think someone duped him into thinking she was Allia. He hadn't seen her before had he?'

'I was the only person to see her.' Mitchell admitted with a sigh. 'If someone did dupe Landry, then they had to be close enough to Allia to make it work.'

'So she's here for revenge.' John wasn't surprised. From what he knew of the Alliance it fitted with their modus operandi.

'It explains why I was Allia's focus. She knows me already.' Mitchell grimaced. 'I am _not_ looking forward to this reunion.' He banged his head against the wall.

John considered the sudden tension in Mitchell's face. 'She tortured you before she agreed to give you what you wanted and you left it out of the report.'

Mitchell's lips tightened. 'Not exactly.'

'And by not exactly…' John pressed ruthlessly but he needed to know whether Mitchell was going to break or not.

'Before I spoke with Allia was _this_ ,' Mitchell explained, with a wave that encompassed his relative nakedness, 'I was stripped, thrown into a cell without anything.' He wet his lips. 'Allia tortured me after she gave me the intelligence I was after.'

'After she gave you Ba'al's location.' John deduced.

'We made a deal.' Mitchell said dully. 'She likes pain games.'

John didn't say anything; there was nothing to say. Mitchell was a grown-up; he'd taken the risk when he'd agreed to Allia's terms. And John wasn't sure he wouldn't have taken the same deal.

'It wasn't…bad.' Mitchell added after a while. 'She whipped me mostly. Then she had one of her minions, a tame Goa'uld who'd entered her service for protection, heal me using a Goa'uld hand device and she let me go.' He grimaced as he moved his legs. 'It was either that or she would have killed me so…I couldn't put it in the report.'

'You don't have to justify anything to me.' John assured him. They all made decisions in the field that sounded crazy when they were safely back at base and, most of the time, the brass didn't want to know despite the standing order that the reports be as complete as they could be.

'I guess you understand more than most.' Mitchell commented quietly. 'There are some orders that shouldn't be followed.'

John stiffened, thinking it was an allusion to his black mark.

Mitchell sighed heavily, acknowledging the sudden tension between them. 'I didn't mean that as a criticism, John.'

'I know.' John said automatically before he realised he did know. 'It's just…' he shrugged and rubbed his upper arms, hoping to get some warmth back into his limbs.

'You got a raw deal.' Mitchell looked over at him earnestly. 'Geez, Sheppard, you went back for three men against orders because you held firm to the notion of not leaving them behind. Most people would have awarded you with a medal.'

'Not the ones who focus on the disobeying orders part of it.' John said dryly. He tried to relax but he never talked about it and wasn't about to start. The issue had never been because he'd disobeyed orders that one time; it was because he'd disobeyed orders on multiple other occasions and he'd had to finally pay the price. All in all though, his punishment could have been worse; he could have been discharged. As it was, he'd ended up in the right place at the right time and found himself with a command that he loved and a team – friends – that he considered family. 'It's OK. Ancient history.'

Mitchell's eyebrows rose a little but he acquiesced to the change in subject. 'I'm sorry about Maggie. She must have been shot up pretty badly.'

John closed his eyes as the memory of their final moments in the plane flooded through his head; the echoing tear of metal as the bullets ripped through her. They were lucky that their attackers hadn't truly been aiming to kill them. He wondered if she was salvageable; if she could be repaired. It was only a plane, John thought furiously. He'd only had her a short time; he shouldn't be so attached. Hadn't he made himself promise when he'd left his father and brother after the argument that had led to their estrangement that he wouldn't get attached to anyone or anything ever again?

But he had.

He'd gotten attached to Atlantis as soon as he'd stepped inside the city with the steps lighting up as he walked. He'd gotten attached to Ford who had hero-worshipped him and who'd had the makings of a fine officer but who he hadn't been able to save; to Elizabeth who had given him the chance to prove himself but who he had lost; to the original Carson who had saved John's life and who had died in a senseless, senseless way. And he was still attached to Ronon, Teyla and Rodney despite the knowledge that their lives were drifting from John's with the advent of romantic partners and children. No doubt he'd lose them too one day.

Just like he lost everyone.

'John?' Mitchell's hand landed warm and heavy on his arm. 'You OK?'

John avoided Mitchell's concerned gaze and nodded. 'Just…thinking.'

Mitchell looked as though he was about to argue but he removed his hand and slumped back into his previous position. 'I meant to ask,' he said quietly, 'why the name Maggie?'

John's body tensed again and it took an effort for him to unclench his jaw to reply. 'My mother's name.'

'Oh.' Mitchell grimaced apologetically. 'I didn't know.'

'No reason why you should.' John murmured. He changed position, trying to ignore how much his body ached. 'I thought with Dave giving me the plane…it seemed right.'

'I don't think I've heard you mention her before.' Mitchell said.

'She died a long time ago.' John said sharply. He sighed, unhappy with the hard tone he'd used. 'Sorry.'

'My fault.' Mitchell replied apologetically. He shifted against the wall, trying to find a better position. 'I shouldn't have said anything.'

Mitchell sounded so miserable that John hurried to reassure him. 'No, it's…' he stopped, 'it's hard to talk about, you know? I mean, I was eleven.'

Mitchell stayed silent but John could almost feel his curiosity; the repression of the usual question of 'what happened.'

'It was a car accident,' John said eventually, 'the brakes failed; we went off the road and hit a tree. I managed to get Dave out and I went back for her but…' he wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, lost in the memories of the heat of the explosion and flying through the air, 'it was too late.'

He couldn't look at Mitchell. He didn't want to see condemnation or, worse, pity, in the other man's eyes.

'You have to know it wasn't your fault.' Mitchell said softly. 'You were eleven.'

John didn't know how to reply. It was his fault; if he had been smarter, faster, better…

'Didn't your Dad tell you that?' Mitchell continued.

John laughed harshly. 'Actually, he told me it was all my fault.'

'He what?' Mitchell said, shocked and furious.

John waved a hand in Mitchell's direction and stared at the shadows on the far wall. 'That was our last conversation. Him telling me it was my fault my mother was dead and my telling him that I'd stay in Antarctica for the rest of my life if it meant that I didn't have to have anything more to do with him.'

'Shit, Sheppard…' Mitchell reached out and clasped John's shoulder.

John finally looked over at him.

Mitchell's blue eyes gazed back sympathetically at him. 'Your Dad was a grade A bastard.'

John nodded, his throat suddenly tight with unexpected tears.

Mitchell let go of him. 'I'm pretty sure we can get Maggie fixed up.'

'Maybe.' John managed to reply, grateful for Mitchell changing the topic.

'Is it me or is it cold in here?' Mitchell asked abruptly, rubbing his arms furiously.

John grimaced as he assessed how cold he felt. 'It's not you.' He pushed off the floor and hauled himself to his feet. 'Come on, we need to move around and get warm.'

Mitchell took his hand and used the wall for support as he got upright. They both began pacing, Mitchell hobbling with every step.

Stop thinking of the past, John instructed himself briskly. They had to find a way to escape especially as it was unlikely that they would be beamed out. 'You know what I don't understand,' he said out loud as the thought formed in his head, 'why attack us at the airfield? If they had someone on the Odyssey, why didn't they target us straight away and beam us out days ago?'

'Access?' Mitchell suggested with a pained shrug. 'Maybe they're not used to the targeting system either. Maybe they had to get us to a predefined location.'

'So how did they know where to find us?' John asked, stopping for a moment, his hands on his hips as he thought it over. 'Only us, Sam and the airfield guys knew we were scheduled to fly into Colorado, right?'

'Right.' Mitchell sighed and rested up against the wall. 'Maybe it was the airfield guys. Maybe someone called them pretending they were the press and wanted an exclusive photo of the elusive owner of Sheppard International. They probably didn't realise the danger.'

'I don't know…' John began, thinking it was unlikely that the airfield staff would have said anything to the press but a sound outside the door made him stop. He raised a finger to his lips as Mitchell went to ask him what was wrong and pointed at the door.

They silently signalled a plan; John would hide behind the door and take out whoever entered; Mitchell would be bait. They positioned themselves quickly and the sound of bolts drawing back had John's heart rate escalating. He drew a careful breath and waited in anticipation as the lock released with a rusty click. The door moved outward but before John could move the lights were switched on, flooding the room and almost blinding John as someone stepped inside.

He tried to blink the glare out of his eyes as he went to attack but the bulky form spun and sent him spinning into the wall and crashing to the ground.

'Don't!'

The sound of a zat being armed stopped Mitchell from attacking the guard. John raised his head and realised that he was the intended victim of the zat not the other Colonel.

'Allia wants to see you, Mitchell.' The guard's form solidified in John's vision; male, built, close cropped hair and a tribal tattoo on his arm. He motioned for Mitchell to step out of the room.

Mitchell glanced towards John.

'I'm OK,' John assured him, gingerly touching the back of his head.

'Allia doesn't like to be kept waiting.' The guard snarled and raised the zat at John again.

'OK, OK.' Mitchell held up both his hands. 'I'm coming.' His blue eyes met John's briefly; they exchanged an unspoken promise that if either escaped they would find the other as he limped past and out of the room.

The guard threw a bottle of water at John. 'Here. She wants you alive.'

John caught the plastic bottle before it hit his face. 'Thanks for the room service. I'd tip but I seem to be without my wallet.'

The guard leered and stormed out. The door clanged shut behind him and a second later the lights went out.

He moved so he was sitting back against the wall again and opened the water. It could be drugged, he considered thoughtfully, in all probability it was but he needed water to live. He took a couple of careful mouthfuls and set the bottle aside. Hopefully, it wasn't drugged and if it wasn't, Mitchell would need some water when he returned.

If he returned.

He should have done something more to stop them from taking him.

'Stupid, John.' John muttered under his breath.

The light seeping in under the door mocked him.

He banged his head lightly against the wall. Allia wouldn't kill Mitchell. She wanted him to get to Landry and whoever it was that was pretending to be her. Clearly that someone had a death wish, John mused. Did Landry know that it wasn't Allia? Was that why he'd kept Mitchell out of it? John got the impression that Mitchell was perplexed by Landry's decision not to confide in him and John was too.

Landry wasn't a bad CO. John had served with enough to know the difference between bad and good. And Landry was a good CO on the whole; he just didn't trust John all that much. John felt a moment's shimmering hurt about that because he was good at his job and he wanted his CO's trust. But he figured Landry respected him – enough to keep John in Atlantis – which maybe wasn't a bad trade-off. By comparison, John believed Landry both respected _and_ trusted Mitchell. And Mitchell probably hadn't given Landry cause not to do either. Even if Mitchell had omitted various things on official reports, well…they all did it. Sometimes the crap they encountered off world, the decisions they made, didn't need to make it on paper for some pencil pusher to judge.

John grimaced, remembering Mitchell's admission about Allia and her pain games. He wondered if Allia was going to try the same kind of deal again. He doubted Mitchell would take it again. John wondered what kind of deal Allia was going to offer him; he assumed Allia wouldn't simply use him as leverage to try and get Mitchell to do what she wanted; John wasn't unaware that he had value as the military leader of Atlantis.

He wet his lips and glanced at the water bottle longingly. He didn't feel any different so there was hope it hadn't been drugged. He shivered. He should get some rest and get prepared to make another attempt at freedom when the door was opened again.

Or, hopefully, it would be Mitchell the next time coming to save him. John closed his eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

Cam watched as the guard who'd ordered him out of the room locked the door, bolted it and pocketed the keys. He inwardly groaned because it would make grabbing them much harder. His eyes flitted to the young guard standing beside him with another zat pointed at him. He was tall, thin and with a blond crew cut that reminded Cam of Billy Idol.

'Start walking.' Guard Numero Uno growled.

The Billy Idol wannabe pushed Cam's shoulder and he started walking. The corridor was narrow and Cam felt a moment's satisfaction that they were on a boat as they walked through another door – one that he recognised from various times he'd been on aircraft carriers. He climbed up the ladder to the next deck at Guard Numero Uno's insistence and down another narrow corridor. There were portholes to the left and Cam tried to peer out casually. His eyes glanced off a floating iceberg and widened.

They were near Antarctica.

It wasn't his favourite place – he'd almost lost his life after the crash on the ice – but he would take it. McMurdo was close and John knew Antarctica; he'd spent almost a year posted there before the Stargate programme.

OK, so Antarctica wasn't great but it could be counted in the plus column, Mitchell determined. He shivered though at the sight of the ice; the warm leather jackets the guards were wearing made sense. What was bad, Mitchell thought tiredly, was that he and John were stripped. They'd need to find clothing to escape in or they'd die from hypothermia before they even made it to McMurdo. It was still a possibility even without escape; the room they were in wasn't exactly freezing but the Alliance hadn't made it comfortable. He hoped John would stay warm.

The guard turned a corner and Mitchell was waved into an open cabin door. He ducked his head a little and entered. The brush of heat against his bare skin reminded him of his previous thoughts as he took in the large space; oak panelled, furnished as a study with a further room off to the back where Cam could see a bed.

His attention was arrested on the sight of the blonde woman standing behind the desk. She wore a three-quarter length leather jacket over a tight black top and leather trousers. Her hair was neatly constrained in an elegant chignon. Gold glinted in the lobes of her ears, at her wrist and on her fingers. Allia was an attractive woman in her forties; her face bore few wrinkles and she kept it stylishly made up to cover any blemishes including the scar on her left cheek that Netan had once given her.

The scents of freshly brewed coffee and baked cinnamon pastries permeated the air and Cam felt his stomach growl hungrily. Allia smirked at him and waved him into the chair in front of the desk.

'Would you like something to eat or drink?' Allia asked courteously. She sat down as Cam did and reached into her purse for a cigarette packet and lighter.

'I'd like the coffee and pastry without the drugs.' Cam watched fascinated as she lit up and blew out a stream of smoke. He was aware that the guards remained behind him, poised to shoot if he tried anything with her.

Allia pushed the plate and mug over towards him. 'Your lucky day.'

'I was thinking just the opposite.' Cam said. He picked up the mug and drank down the warm liquid gratefully. He knew the guard had given John some water; they needed fluids. 'So,' he said, 'you couldn't have just called?'

Allia's red lips curved into a wide smile. She tapped off the ash of her cigarette into a small ashtray and leaned back into her comfortable leather chair. 'I'd forgotten how much you amused me.'

'I'm hurt that I was so forgettable, Allia.' Cam shot back. He stalled by drinking some more coffee. 'How long have you known about the imposter?'

'Since one of my people got herself killed to let me know.'

The scare that someone had gotten too close, Cam remembered; the one that had led to the information being leaked in the Alliance that there was a spy and the details of the deal.

'My name wasn't mentioned but yours was of course so I knew.' Allia stabbed out the cigarette with one hard thump. 'Someone was pretending to be me.'

'You could have contacted us and let us know.' Cam replied, trying to keep his tone casual. 'We tend to take a dim view of people pretending to be someone they're not.'

'You think your General would have cared since the information the traitor provided had already saved some of you?' Allia retorted angrily. She pushed her chair back and got to her feet. 'You and I both know I would have been laughed at and denied my rights.'

Cam could feel his eyebrows climbing. He crossed his legs and grimaced at the reminder of his own nakedness. 'Your rights?'

'To kill the imposter.' Allia glared at him as though he was stupid; he felt stupid.

'I take it this is some kind of Alliance tribal law thing?' Cam questioned. He was actually interested. The SGC didn't really understand the workings of the Alliance – it was why they were rarely successful at getting operatives inside.

'You Tau'ri mock our ways,' Allia's dark eyes glittered, 'but our ways are as valid as yours.'

'I didn't say they weren't,' Cam kept his tone mild, 'and I _am_ interested in the answer.'

'I have the right to vengeance.' Allia looked at him coolly. 'The rest of the Alliance agreed.'

'They approved?' Cam was surprised. From what they had understood the Alliance tribes worked mostly on their own eschewing a formal leader like Netan had been – probably because of how hopeless Netan had been.

'Yes,' Allia smiled again and sat on the edge of the desk just in front of him, 'I've been here for months overseeing this plan.' She reached out with a finger and traced his collarbone.

Cam tried hard not to shrink away from the touch or show that it had affected him in any way. 'The plan to capture me?'

'You were the obvious candidate.' Allia trailed her finger up his neck and prodded his chin up so he looked at her. 'You know where she is.'

'I haven't got a clue.' Cam replied honestly. 'The General kept me out of it. Why do you think I was so surprised to see you? The information my team gathered for me indicated you were busily getting debriefed ready for your new life.'

Allia absorbed his sincerity with a frown. She dropped her hand. 'You do realise that I can't just take your word for it.'

'Why not?' Cam asked as though it wasn't too much of a concern that she wouldn't. 'Irrespective of the details, we dealt with each other fairly and honestly the last time our paths crossed.'

Allia smiled. 'So we did.' She stared at him for a long moment – long enough that Cam felt the flutter of nerves in his belly; a shiver worked its way down his spine. She moved suddenly, returning to her chair and lighting another cigarette. 'Even if I was to believe you, Cameron, you still can lead me to her.'

'I don't know where they are.' Cam said honestly. He eyed the pastry. He was hungry but he felt guilty for thinking about eating when John wouldn't.

'Now that I don't believe.' Allia snorted. She dragged on her cigarette. 'Landry must have told you.'

'The General knew I was at risk.' Cam stated firmly. 'He kept me out of the whole thing. Think about it, Allia; would I have really agreed to have had the wedding and gone on my honeymoon if I knew about the spy and where Landry was with her? Would I have left my CO without back-up?'

Allia considered his words and shook her head. 'You're much too honourable.' She regarded him with an almost fond look that made his stomach churn. 'You wouldn't last in the Alliance.'

'I'm telling you the truth.' Cam said.

'Let's say that you are telling me the truth,' she motioned with the cigarette, 'that you don't know anything, I'm quite certain that you could persuade your team to find out.'

'They won't give in to blackmail from terrorists, Allia.' Cam pointed out. 'They know you have me and if I call and ask, they're not going to give me anything.'

'The thing is, Cameron,' Allia said, flicking her ash away, 'you'd say the same thing regardless of whether it was the truth or not and how am I meant to tell the difference?' She smiled. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to have a little fun to check.'

'Go ahead.' Cam offered with a show of bravado. He'd already felt her whip once; he could do it again if it bought him and John some time. John was right; their team-mates would be looking for them and they would find them.

'Maybe I won't play with you.' Allia stubbed out the cigarette and leaned back. She folded her hands over her belly and looked at him with a smug smirk that Cam itched to remove from her face. 'Maybe I'll play with someone else.'

'Sheppard's too valuable for you to kill.' Cam pointed out.

'But not to maim.' Allia grinned. 'I was thinking of taking his legs. He's a pilot, isn't he? Can't be a pilot without legs.'

Cam kept the flinch off his face with a struggle – it was a barb about his father, Cam was sure about that. Instead he shrugged with a brief lift of his shoulders. 'You can if you fly Ancient technology.' He paused. 'He does that with his mind and since taking his head would mean killing him…'

Allia's lips curled into a snarl. 'Maybe I'll just hurt him. Make him bleed.'

Cam shrugged again. 'Go ahead. He expects to be tortured.' It was the truth. Cam expected to be tortured too because he knew Allia wouldn't accept his word.

She laughed raucously. 'I do like you, Cameron.' She tilted her head, her eyes cold. Her gaze flickered to the guard behind him. 'Get the coats, and find clothing for Colonel Mitchell.' She pushed her chair back. 'We're going to take a walk.'

Cam didn't let her comment faze him. He waited for the guard to return. The green flight jumpsuit reminded him of those one by the Earth fleet but there were no patches to signify any ship affiliation. He pulled it on grateful to be covered up and ignored the fact that he was being watched by Allia and the guard. The boots were his but they didn't give him his socks and Cam hid his discomfort as he tightened the laces. A thick thermal jacket in black completed the outfit.

Cam felt the prod of a zat gun at his back and got to his feet. There was a guard between him and Allia, another at his back. He calculated the odds of successfully overpowering the three of them and determined they weren't good especially as his knees ached with every step.

Allia opened a door and rush of ice cold air slammed into Cam. He huddled into his coat and spared another guilty thought for John, still stripped bare and on his own in the cold room. He stepped out onto the deck. He noted the two helicopters on the helipad; crouching like black spiders on the bow of the ship. His heart lifted. He had no idea how to fly a chopper but he had confidence John could even if he hadn't flown those particular models before. They rounded a corner and for a second Cam had a good view of the whole deck. The deadly sleek form of a 302 caught his attention immediately.

The spy on the Odyssey, Cam realised as he was hustled straight through another door and into the bowels of the ship again. Whoever had beamed them to the ship must have escaped the Odyssey using a 302. OK, Cam thought hopefully; they had two ways of the ship – the helicopter or the 302. John could fly either; Cam could fly the 302. They had options. The helicopter was closer, could get them to McMurdo, and was probably a safer bet but the 302 could get them safely to the Odyssey as long as there was enough fuel.

The boat must be cloaked though, Cam thought with a grimace. Otherwise the Odyssey would have already picked up on the 302. It also explained why they hadn't been beamed back. Or maybe the spy had compromised the beaming technology when he'd left.

Allia opened a door and ushered him through it with a sly smile. Cam shot her a questioning look but stepped inside with a grimace. The room was small and clearly a surveillance room; there was a woman sitting at the table reading a magazine, ostensibly ignoring the two monitors in front of her. She got to her feet hastily as Allia entered.

Cam's eyebrows lifted. The clothes were all Alliance; brown leather pants, leather vest over a white t-shirt, and she looked a lot different from her photo. 'Ms Lovell, I presume?'

The redhead blushed and turned to Allia. 'The prisoner hasn't moved.'

Allia nodded sharply. 'Good. You may leave us. Find some food for Colonel Sheppard and have it delivered to his cell.'

'You could give him some clothes too.' Cam interjected mildly. 'It's pretty cold in there.'

Allia's gaze sharpened on Cam but she gestured at Lovell. 'Give Sheppard a blanket.'

'Yes, Allia.' Lovell sidled out, casting a nervous glance towards Cam.

'Well, that explains why we couldn't find her in the States.' Cam commented dryly.

Allia smiled. She gestured towards the monitors. 'Don't you want to take a look at the prisoner?'

Cam knew there was a sting in looking. He wondered if he'd see them beating John and steeled himself. His eyes flickered to the screen. For a second, his mind refused to make sense of the picture before his heart leapt anxiously into his throat and his body froze, shivering underneath the warm clothing.

Amy.

His ex-fiancée was in a room somewhere on the ship. She was clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, stretched out on a double bed. There was a discarded tea tray with the remnants of a meal on the table beside her. They must have beamed her away from her house; it was bloodless and easy. The protection detail wouldn't have any idea she was even missing. Fear riddled Cam for a minute; made it impossible for him to speak. He knew there was only one reason for Allia to have kidnapped Amy – to force him into doing what Allia wanted.

'As you can see, she's unharmed.' Allia said softly. 'And she'll remain that way as long as you do what I tell you.'

Cam shot her a furious look.

'Ah, Cameron. So you do care for her.' Allia grinned and sat down on the table, crossing her arms as she regarded him coldly. 'I did wonder when you cancelled the wedding.' Her head tilted. 'Not that I can blame you for that; she is dull. I rather think you need a woman with spirit.' She waved a hand toward the monitor. 'It only took her ten minutes to stop yelling and start crying.'

Cam took a deep breath and ignored his balled-up fists. 'Let her go.'

'I don't think so.' Allia replied easily. 'If you have a failing, Cameron, it's that you're _too_ honourable. You'd let me torture Sheppard without giving me anything because you know he's implicitly signed up for it since you're both soldiers of a kind here on your world. But sweet, gentle Amy…' her lips curved cruelly, 'well, she's an innocent – what do you call them? – civilian? You can't let her be tortured.'

'I told you the truth,' Cam rushed out defensively, 'I don't know anything about the imposter or about where she is with Landry. If you torture Amy - anyone, it'll be for nothing because I won't tell you anything different.'

Allia's gaze raked over his face again; he wondered whether she could see the honesty in his eyes or the desperation. 'Why don't you go and say hello to her?' She grinned. 'We did prepare the room as a honeymoon suite after all.'

Cam let himself be prodded out of the surveillance room and back down the narrow corridor. The guard unlocked a door and pushed him unceremoniously through it. The door locked behind him.

Amy stirred on the bed, her eyes opening slowly. She sprang up as soon as she saw him and an instance later, Cam had his arms full of her. He held her tightly, knowing she needed the reassurance as she sobbed on his shoulder. He smoothed a hand over her hair and down her back, trying to comfort her. He was too aware of the camera; of Allia in the surveillance room watching and listening to everything they had to say. He ducked his head to hide his own face in the crook of her neck and froze.

The grim scar line at the base of her neck told its own story. She was a host. He schooled himself not to tear out of the embrace. He took one deep calming breath after another. The line was new; he would swear it hadn't been there when he'd hugged her goodbye. Carolyn's people had cleared her of being a host. The Alliance had to have implanted her after they'd beamed her away from her home, Cam realised. He closed his eyes and took another calming breath.

Why?

Why would they have implanted her? To save time to get the knowledge of what Amy knew, Cam surmised. They thought he would tell her his next destination. But he hadn't, had he? He thought back over their conversation and inwardly winced as he remembered that he'd told Amy that he'd call when he got to his place. He hadn't meant to but he had given away that he was heading back to his own home.

Damn.

And Amy having the Goa'uld inside of her meant that the Alliance had an easy way to torture her; not to mention that it made it difficult for Cam to leave with her because he'd have to find some way to subdue her. Perhaps they were even hoping that he would confide any escape plans to her so they'd have an easy way to stop him.

Escaping had gotten more complicated in the past fifteen minutes; he had to find some way to get back to Amy's room from his and John's cell; subdue Amy and make his way back to the helicopter. The 302 was out because it only carried two; they would need the helicopter.

He had to pretend that he didn't know about the Goa'uld, Cam thought quickly as Amy's sobs slowed; he couldn't let them know he suspected. Cam pulled out of the hold and brushed her tears away with a careful dash of his thumb. He eased away from her gently, taking hold of her hands and leading her back to the bed. He sat down with her.

'Are you OK?' Cam asked solicitously.

Amy gave him a disbelieving look – and he wondered for one moment if it was Amy or the Goa'uld in her head. 'One minute I'm in my house, Cam, and the next minute I'm here. What's going on?'

'We've kidnapped by the same people Lucy and Gus work for.' Cam said succinctly. 'The leader is a woman called Allia. We've met before when I was on a mission.' He cleared his throat and considered what he could say to her; how much. OK, so he could start with the truth. 'Until I saw her here I thought she was being debriefed by General Landry as a double agent working towards a reward of a new life here on Earth.'

'What?'

'She was, uh, supposed to be a spy. But, obviously…' Cam shrugged and kept his attention on Amy's fingers. 'She's not. There's an imposter and Allia's not too happy hence why we're, uh, her guests.'

'Because she wants to find out where General Landry and the imposter are?' Amy asked, seemingly innocently.

Cam nodded, unable to speak.

'Why don't you tell her?' Amy suggested. Her fingers tightened around his. 'I mean, surely the General has protection and then she'd let us go and…'

'Amy.' Cam closed his eyes briefly against a surge of disappointment. It had to be the Goa'uld trying to get him to give away secrets he didn't have; it had to be. He refused to believe Amy would be so weak. He cleared his throat and looked at her. 'Amy, I don't know where Landry is. I didn't even know that he had this agent within the Lucien Alliance until we did some digging on why they might want to kidnap me this last couple of weeks. Landry left me out of it. I don't know why. Maybe because he knew it wasn't Allia and didn't want to tip her off or didn't want me to know. I don't know.' He sighed. 'All I do know is that I don't know where Landry is.'

Amy searched his face for something and her expression hardened imperceptibly but enough that he knew the Goa'uld was frustrated. 'Are you afraid they're listening in? Is that the reason…'

Cam laughed harshly and pulled away from her, getting to his feet and limping away a few steps needing the distance to continue the pretence. 'I know they're listening, Amy, but even if they weren't; it would still be the truth. I don't have the information they want.'

'So what's going to happen?' Amy changed, once again looking meek and terrified.

He shook his head as though to clear it. 'They're going to try and convince me to say something different which since what I've already said is the truth is going to be difficult.' He said simply. He limped back over and took her hand. 'Amy,' he said, speaking to the woman who was probably trapped in her own head by the Goa'uld, 'just stay calm and stay safe. We'll get you out of this, I promise.'

Amy nodded slowly.

Cam squeezed her hand as the door was unlocked and Billy Idol swept in to hustle Cam out again. He was taken all the way back to Allia's office and told to wait.

The silence in the small room was deafening. Cam surveyed the lukewarm coffee and the pastry. He drank down the liquid and ate up every scrap of the food. He knew he'd need his strength for whatever games Allia wanted to play next.

God. It was a mess. Amy infested with a Goa'uld. Allia and her vengeance gig. John locked away in the bowels of the ship and probably freezing to death. And Cam, half crippled by the pain in his knees and his back…

Cam's lips firmed.

He couldn't give up. His team were looking for them; John's team were looking for them. They would be found and rescued. And regardless of that, they could escape…they would escape. They just had to find a way.

The door opened and Allia marched in with a grim smile. She raised the weapon in her hand – a Goa'uld pain stick.

'Are you sure you don't want to change your mind and tell me where the bitch is?'

'I'm telling the truth, Allia.' Cam repeated, trying not to tense in anticipation of the torture he knew was coming. 'There's nothing more I can tell you.'

Allia's smile widened. 'Oh, I know that.' She twirled the pain stick as though she was a cheerleader with a macabre baton. 'But why let that spoil my fun?'

Crap, thought Cam grimly. He'd get through it though. He'd get through it because Mitchells didn't give up, SG1 didn't give up, and neither did John Sheppard or his team. He had to hang onto that.


	22. Chapter 22

Rodney stormed away from one console, slammed the connecting lead into another and tapped impatiently on his datapad. He grimaced. The communications system had been given a particularly nasty virus, allowing emergency communications but disrupting everything else. Both back-up systems had been hit. It was an ingenious piece of coding. It was going to be hellish to backtrack and clean out of the system.

Another virus had been uploaded into the Odyssey's computers to cause minor malfunctions and distractions. Rodney had dealt with that first because they didn't need anything else to worry about since he'd already assessed the beaming technology.

The dish for the targeting was fine but the entire system had been compromised including the sensor program responsible for tracking the microchips they all carried under their skin. Everything would have to be rebuilt from scratch since again the back-up systems had been similarly wiped out. The crystals controlling it had been bombed and would need to be replaced or energy rerouted through some other compatible crystals. It was hours and hours of work.

Hours and hours that John – and Mitchell – might not have, Rodney reminded himself, trying frantically to keep the incipient panic curdling in his gut from overwhelming him. He scowled at his datapad as though his glare alone could change his conclusions.

The engineering room was a disaster; debris everywhere, scorch marks along the walls, the smell of burnt metal and crystal pervading the stuffy air. Engineering staff were swarming over the area trying to fix everything and accomplishing nothing; subdued after losing two of their number in the attack.

Focus, Rodney told himself sternly. Hadn't he learned that early on in his time in Atlantis? He needed to focus on the problem and fixing it not on…not on the possibility that John might be dead…

He wasn't dead.

Sam had been clear when Rodney had spoken to her via the puddle jumpers; the plane was shot up badly but there was no sign that John – or Mitchell – had been shot; no blood, the cockpit relatively undamaged apart from the shot-up windshield. All indicators were that the two men had been beamed away. Beamed away by the technology Rodney should be focused on fixing…

'Rodney.' Lindsay Novak's hesitant greeting had him turning towards the door to engineering with surprise. Novak hovered; her left arm was in a sling and there was a nasty bruise forming along her left temple.

'Shouldn't you be in the infirmary?' Rodney asked, waving a hand in her direction to indicate her injuries.

'I heard Colonel Mitchell and Colonel Sheppard are missing.' Novak said simply. 'I thought I could help rebuild the beaming system.'

Rodney was torn between wanting to kiss her – which ewww – and feeling as though he should protest and send her back to the infirmary. Instead he motioned for her to take the opposite console and sent her the diagnostics he'd already run. 'We need to recover the last known beaming coordinates or reconstruct the sensor program to find their microchips.'

'OK.' Novak frowned as she assimilated the extent of the damage. 'You'll work on the communications?'

'Yes.' Rodney said tersely. He had talked with Radek via the puddle jumper. Radek was trying to extend the Atlantis sensors worldwide but the problem was convincing the Atlantis system not to pick up on every single life-form – animal, alien and human included – but only to search for John. Radek had baulked at that but Rodney had pointed out that wherever John was, Mitchell was likely to be and they could convince Atlantis to search for John's shiny Ancient gene better than anything else.

The satellite search for the ship was going very slowly. Rodney knew from his communication with Radek that Sam had pulled Homeworld off the search and put Bill Lee onto it. But there was still nothing.

Rodney wanted to fix the communications system so he could call Bill Lee up and yell at him for not finding the ship sooner, faster, NOW. He wanted to yell at somebody.

'We'll find them, Rodney.' Novak offered from her station. She was already beginning to work competently one-handed, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Rodney gave another sharp nod. They'd find them and then they would make the Lucien Alliance pay for taking them. He frowned over another section of communications code riddled inoperative by the virus and replaced it quickly.

'I want a status update.' Colonel Morrow entered. His freckled face was almost as red as his hair. His grey eyes caught on Novak and narrowed. 'Novak, you shouldn't be here.'

'Doctor Montgomery authorised my discharge from the infirmary, Colonel.' Novak had subtly tensed and nerves shook through every word.

Rodney waited for the inevitable hiccups that accompanied her nervousness and wasn't surprised when Novak immediately complied.

'I don't believe you. You're clearly not fit for…'

'She's helping; you're not.' Rodney butted in bluntly, keying in another section of code. 'That's your status report. Now, since you're supposed to stay on the bridge during a lockdown if I remember the protocol correctly, and please, like I would forget since I helped update it the last time, maybe you could get back there and leave us to fix this mess.'

Morrow glowered at him. 'You are not in charge here.'

'Neither are you.' Rodney retorted, pleased beyond words to have an outlet for the anger that had been building inside of him since he'd seen the monitor showing the Atlantis sensor readings without John's life sign. 'And frankly since it was under your watch that a Lucien Alliance spy managed to get control of our beaming technology, completely screwed up the Odyssey's systems and was pivotal in kidnapping two of the programme's best people, I think your days of technically being the CO here are numbered!' He was yelling full out by the end of it; Odyssey staff stopping to stare in wonder.

'You forgot 'allowed the spy to escape in a 302,' Rodney.' Novak offered politely without looking up from a console.

'This is unacceptable…' Morrow began heatedly.

Rodney was impressed she'd said anything against Morrow even if her voice still shook with tension. 'I did?' He glanced over at her. 'That's how the spy escaped? In a 302? But that means…'

Novak's head snapped over to look at him excitedly as she got where he was going with his conclusion. 'The main sensors would track the 302, we could find them that way…'

Unbidden, John's words echoed in his head and Rodney waved away Novak's suggestion even as he walked over to her, ignoring the spluttering Morrow. 'No, no. If we find the plane, then we know where the plane is, not necessarily Sheppard and Mitchell, but it's still a good place to start.' Novak flushed with the praise and she let Rodney take over as he checked the sensors. He scowled. 'They're not working.'

Novak immediately pushed him off and redid the check. She carefully ran a diagnostic and Rodney shuffled impatiently beside her, reaching out to point at something and almost getting his hand slapped as a result. She motioned at the screen with the results.

'The sensors are working fine.' Rodney said out loud. 'But if it's on Earth then we should be able to find it.'

'Maybe it left the solar system.' Novak suggested hesitantly. She raised her good hand to her bruised forehead, wincing in pain.

'We should bring up the flight history.' Rodney said, moving in on the console again and disregarding Novak's unsubtle eye-roll.

'Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?' Morrow ordered belligerently.

'We're attempting to track down the missing 302 through the sensor information.' Rodney shot back. 'I would have thought even someone as moronic as you would have been able to tell that.'

'Rodney,' Novak drew his attention back to the monitor, 'look; the 302 was headed for Earth, possibly Antarctica given its direction. There's no evidence that it was leaving.'

'So, why isn't it showing up on Earth?' Rodney snapped his fingers several times. 'A cloak! They must have a cloak!'

'Or a shield of some sort.' Novak countered.

'Or a shield.' Rodney allowed, because he was generous and going to give her that one.

'That explains why Homeworld hasn't had any success with tracking the ship.' Novak added.

Rodney considered that maybe he owed the technician at Homeworld an apology for thinking it was incompetence. He snapped his fingers again. 'The 302 was headed to Antarctica. OK, so it's not a bad place to hide a ship. It's remote and if anyone does spot a ship they'll assume it's headed for McMurdo.'

'I'll set up a sensor trace to look for anomalies associated with cloaks and shields in the area.' Novak was already tapping the instructions in one-handed.

'I haven't authorised that and I have no orders to support the search for Mitchell and Sheppard beyond ascertaining the beaming coordinates.' Morrow asserted loudly. 'Novak, you will desist immediately.'

The engineering staff knew when to leave; the room cleared out so fast it almost made Rodney's head spin.

Rodney's temper lit up. 'You have got to be kidding me, you giant moron!' He took a half-step toward Morrow.

Morrow straightened, his hands curling into fists.

'Rodney…' Novak said nervously.

'Is there a problem here?' Daniel's calm voice cut through the tense engineering room.

Rodney whirled to face him, thankful for Daniel's arrival but more thankful for the presence of Teyla and Ronon behind him. He registered Vala and Teal'c's presence dimly.

Morrow's face hardened with further displeasure – something Rodney hadn't thought possible. 'I didn't authorise anybody to come aboard.'

'Sam did.' Daniel said blithely.

Rodney knew Daniel had mentioned Sam simply to goad Morrow.

Teal'c took a step toward Morrow, somehow managing to emphasise his considerable size, height and bulk combined. 'Should you not be on the bridge during the lockdown protocol, Colonel Morrow?'

Ronon fingered his ever present stun gun in silent support.

Morrow at least had the sense to know when he was outnumbered. 'Concentrate on communications.' He snarled at Rodney; he glowered at Daniel and left.

'I'm going to shove his communications system up his…' Rodney muttered.

'Rodney.' Teyla interrupted, chiding him with soft concern.

'I could shoot him.' Ronon offered with a glint in his eyes that told Rodney he wasn't joking.

Rodney considered that they might have overheard Morrow's stupid comment and he was tempted to take Ronon up on it but Teyla was regarding them both with a 'this is not a good example for my son' expression. Rodney waved away the suggestion with regret. 'I'll ruin his credit rating when I get a moment.'

Vala's dark eyes gleamed as she draped herself over the central console. 'Can you really do that?'

Rodney preened and nodded.

'What's going on?' Daniel asked impatiently.

Rodney went back to fixing communications, (because they needed communications and not because Morrow had ordered him to work on it; he didn't give a rat's ass what Morrow wanted him to do), as he gave them all a brief summation on the 302 and his and Novak's theory on the shield. 'And then,' he concluded, 'Colonel But-I-don't-have-orders-to-help suggested we don't run the scans.'

Teal'c looked murderous. It made Rodney feel better.

'I don't know how he got this command.' Rodney muttered, keying in another code forcefully. 'Even Vidrine's not usually this bad a judge of character.'

'Blackmail.' Vala suggested promptly.

Teyla looked horrified.

'She's joking.' Rodney assured her, plugging in another fix.

'He excelled in Iraq,' Daniel explained, 'did some incredibly heroic things from what Jack told me. The Odyssey was supposed to be a reward but…'

'But he's not working out well in the weirdness that is the Stargate programme.' Rodney completed dourly. It was a common phenomenon; recruits who excelled in the fields outside the Stargate programme often couldn't get their heads around the notion that their previous thinking and ways of doing things had to change.

'It can be a lot for some people to take in.' Daniel sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Anyway, I doubt he'll have command here for much longer.'

'They'd be better off sending him back to wherever.' Rodney slapped the enter button back. 'OK, I've rebuilt the communications system. I need to upload it and then we should be able to talk to Earth without using the emergency channel.'

'Great.' Daniel blinked at him as though surprised.

'I would very much like to check that Frank and Wendy made it to Stargate Command.' Teyla said. 'I did not feel right leaving them.'

'Me either.' Vala said, looping her arm through Teyla's and giving her a friendly squeeze. 'But they insisted we help find our missing boys.'

'The Mitchells are at the SGC?' Rodney questioned. It was unusual but he guessed Sam wanted them under protective custody.

'Colonel Carter thought it would be prudent following the disappearance of Amy Vandenberg.' Teal'c said.

'Huh.' Rodney shook his head.

'David Sheppard and his family are on their way to the SGC as well.' Daniel added. 'He let the SGC have any information we wanted; we can't find a trace that it was the airfield staff who gave away the location. Either the Alliance guessed accurately that Cam would want to come home or Amy told them but I can't believe Mitchell would have told her.'

'Maybe she guessed.' Vala said brightly. 'She does know Cameron and she probably has some intuition about his actions.'

'Maybe,' Daniel murmured tiredly.

Rodney tried to ignore the chatter. For the record, he rather thought it was likely Mitchell _had_ told Amy; the woman had been given the all clear on being brainwashed which had evidently been a mistake. He didn't see Amy – a woman who hadn't seen that her fiancé was deeply unhappy and about to dump her – would be intuitive enough to guess Mitchell's next location. But ultimately, he didn't see that it mattered who had given the location away only that it had been given away and John was missing.

And Mitchell.

But Rodney was more concerned about John. Stupid, heroic, self-sacrificing John who no doubt would get himself killed saving Mitchell. Rodney's only hope lay in Mitchell being as equally as self-sacrificing as John – which wasn't possible because nobody was as self-sacrificing as John. Besides, looking at Daniel's pale face with its worry lines of tension, Rodney knew it wasn't as though Mitchell was without his own people worrying about him.

'Thought I'd find you all down here.' Colonel Reynolds walked in with a grim smile.

Daniel waved at him. 'Hey.'

'We know who our spy is.' Reynolds said without any preamble. 'A technician called Cutter.'

'Toby?' Novak looked horrified. 'He was a spy?'

'Looks that way.' Reynolds lifted a hand from his ever-present P90. 'He's the only one missing.'

Novak nodded slowly; white-faced. 'I saw him in here just before the consoles exploded but I didn't think it was unusual. He was always trying to learn new things to be helpful and…' she lifted a hand to her mouth.

Teyla moved to comfort her.

Rodney held back the urge to tell Novak that she could get over her guilt about allowing the Alliance spy anywhere near the beaming technology by fixing it.

Reynolds cleared his throat. 'I'm going to have to tell Morrow shortly.'

And the lockdown protocol would be lifted and their only ability to force Morrow into helping beyond the order Sam had already given to find the beaming coordinates would disappear. Rodney's heart sank. His datapad beeped at him.

Rodney immediately tapped his earpiece. 'Sam, this is Rodney.'

'Rodney.' Sam's voice carried over the open channel. 'You've got communications working?'

'Obviously.' Rodney sniffed. His mind whizzed forward automatically. 'I have to…'

'Call me back on a video link when you're done.' Sam ordered, understanding without words what his next task should be.

He tapped his earpiece again.

'McKay to Sheppard.' Rodney said loudly. He changed the channel back to the Atlantis team and tried again. Nothing. He changed the channel to the usual emergency one and cleared his throat. 'McKay to Sheppard.'

'The shield!' Novak said loudly. 'If our sensors can't penetrate the shield to get a lock on their microchips then it's possible it's also blocking any communication.'

Rodney nodded. He set up the video link with Sam. Daniel and Reynolds joined him in front of the monitor; the rest of their teams hanging back just out of range of the camera. 'Sam.'

She read the answer to the communication test from their disappointed looks. 'I guess it was too much to hope for that we'd be able to reach them so easily.'

'Novak thinks they have a shield or a cloak. We can't find the missing 302 either.' Rodney replied.

Sam nodded. 'We've had contact from the Lucien Alliance.'

They all straightened at the news.

'They sent a video of Cam and a demand that we release the operative Landry is debriefing.' Sam continued briskly. She pushed a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. 'They want an exchange; Cam for their traitor.'

'And John?' Rodney asked before anyone could say anything else. His mouth went dry when Sam shook her head.

'Nothing.' Sam sighed heavily and Rodney couldn't help noticing how tired she appeared; there were bags under her eyes, dark circles. He wondered if she'd gotten any rest in the four hours since they'd received the emergency communication from Morrow. 'But we all know that doesn't mean they don't have him. It's likely that they'll try to work something separately out for John, Rodney. He has a value all of his own.'

'Or they might want to keep him.' Rodney retorted. 'He has the shiniest Ancient gene around and if the Alliance is as serious about cracking the ninth chevron as we are…'

'I know.' Sam interrupted. 'But let's try to remain positive. Jack and Landry are composing a response to the Alliance; they gave us a deadline of two hours. Where are you guys at?'

Rodney updated her on the rebuild of the systems, the theory of the cloak/shield which Sam nodded at thoughtfully, and started a rant about Morrow before she cut him off and asked Reynolds about the lockdown.

'We've identified the likely suspect; Toby Cutter. He was a technician. He was seen near the beaming console before the explosions took place. There's no indication anyone else was involved.' Reynolds relayed. He paused for a brief second. 'I've yet to make my report to Colonel Morrow.'

Sam exchanged a silent look with the SG3 leader. 'Rodney, how much time do you and Lindsay need to repair the beaming technology?'

Rodney shot Novak a questioning look. 'Three hours if we're phenomenally lucky.'

'You have two to get it operational again.' Sam said.

'I said three.' Rodney protested.

'Which means you can do it in two.' Sam replied evenly. 'I'll get McMurdo to send out patrols; hopefully they'll spot the ship even if it's just the distortion of a cloak.' Her gaze shifted to Reynolds again. 'I'll have Jack get Vidrine to sign off on updated orders to provide whatever assistance is necessary to the retrieval of Colonels Mitchell and Sheppard. You should inform Colonel Morrow he can take the ship off lockdown.'

Reynolds nodded unhappily.

'Two hours, Rodney.' Sam said. She disconnected before he could think up a reply.

Daniel patted Reynolds on the shoulder. 'Come on, I'll walk with you to the bridge.'

Rodney wasn't surprised when Teal'c and Vala fell in behind Daniel as they left.

Teyla walked around to join Rodney on the action side of the console. 'Is there any way I can assist?'

Rodney was touched and he knew that Teyla continued to develop her computer expertise with the help of the Atlantis science staff but rebuilding the beaming technology would take an expertise she didn't have. 'No, Novak and I are the only ones who have the knowledge.' He waved a hand at the monitor where Sam's face had been a moment before. 'And Sam, of course.'

'Food?' Ronon asked briskly.

Rodney was about to say no but he considered when he'd last eaten and nodded. He couldn't afford to pass out. 'A snack would be good.' He waggled his finger. 'Maybe some of those pastries? And cookies if they have them.'

'I know what you like.' Teyla said, clasping his shoulder. 'I will get you a meal.'

His heart sank a little because Teyla would get him a nutritional meal or sandwich and not the snack food that Ronon would have gotten for him. Ronon sent him a sympathetic look but he didn't offer to go instead as Teyla offered to pick something up for Novak too.

Novak excused herself to get some more painkillers and Rodney was soon left alone with his Satedan team-mate.

'Can you do it?' Ronon asked bluntly, leaning against the console. His green eyes were dark with frustration.

'Maybe.' Rodney admitted. John might give him deadlines plucked from mid-air but Sam knew the technology and he knew she'd based the time on her own knowledge of how long it would take her. 'Even if we get the beaming technology to work, we have to lock onto something to beam them out and if they're under a cloak…'

'We'll find them.' Ronon said confidently.

Rodney took hope from the glint of determination in Ronon's eyes. 'We should have done more to stop this.'

Ronon shrugged. 'We did what we could.'

He was right; Rodney knew he was right but it didn't help the guilt curdling in his belly.

Ronon's heavy hand landed on Rodney's shoulder in the same spot Teyla's had been just a few minutes before. 'Don't get distracted. Just do your job, McKay.'

The tone was hard and uncompromising but Rodney needed the security of Ronon's steadfastness. He nodded and focused on the data again.

Ronon's hand squeezed his shoulder almost painfully. 'He knows we're coming for him.'

Rodney knew that; he knew John would know they were coming for him, that they wouldn't ever give up until they found him. He set to work again with renewed purpose.


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 5: Emergency Landings**

His team would find him.

John was certain of that. They wouldn't stop until they did. He'd learned his lesson at the Ancient Sanctuary; had spent months believing they'd given up on him only to learn that they hadn't at all even if their effort had been counted in hours not the days he had endured. But he'd learned; he had to keep faith and they would come for him.

And Mitchell's team was no doubt looking for him right alongside his own team; Mitchell, who was currently gone from the cell and locked up somewhere with a Lucien Alliance operative who loved torture and pain games. John shook the thought away. Mitchell was too valuable for Allia to kill. He would survive whatever Allia would do to him.

In the meantime, John lectured himself, he had to concentrate on finding a way to escape. He walked the length of the room and briskly shook his arms, trying to get the blood flowing to get warm. He'd managed some rest before the cold had brought him out of his doze. If someone didn't bring clothes or a blanket they were going to be screwed, John thought morosely, because it was too cold in the cell to be in the state of undress that he and Mitchell found themselves.

Maybe it wasn't the ambient temperature of the ship itself, John mused as he paced. Maybe the temperature was affected by the outside. If they were far south it would explain the cold. He remembered the cold weather training he'd received prior to being sent to McMurdo and shivered again.

A scrape of a bolt going back had him freezing in place. He moved to the side of the door again and squinted ready for the lights going on which they did with alacrity. He'd barely made a move when the zat gun appeared in his face.

'Don't move! Back up against the far wall!' The same goon who had taken Mitchell away pushed the zat gun forward threateningly.

'OK, OK.' John held up his hands surrendering. He kept going backwards until his back hit the wall and waited.

The guard grunted and stepped to the side, zat gun still poised. A woman entered carrying a tray of food and a blanket. She placed both on the ground in the centre of the room and walked back to the guard.

Gina Lovell, John identified as he watched her take the zat gun and hold it with the same assured quality the guard did; the same quality that told John she knew how to use it and would if he made the slightest wrong move.

'You can leave. Close the door behind you.' She ordered.

John saw the guard hesitate minutely before nodding and moving away. The door shut with a hard thump.

'Eat.' Lovell ordered.

He glanced down at the tray of food; a bowl of soup or broth, some bread and cheese. There was a mug of coffee, the scent drifting up to tempt him. His stomach growled. 'I'm not hungry.'

'It's not drugged.' Lovell assured him. 'Allia prefers her guests are fully aware of what she puts them through.'

John walked over and sat down slowly. He pulled the blanket around himself, grateful for the warmth of the scratchy grey wool and that the size meant he could cover himself completely. He reached for the coffee first and took a hesitant sip. The caffeine jolted his system and woke up his taste buds; the warmth flooded through his chest and belly. He set the coffee aside and picked up the spoon.

Lovell watched him, her sharp gaze intent on his every move.

The soup was good; chicken, hint of garlic, some parsley and white wine. He could taste onion, celery and carrot in the stock. He dipped a chunk of bread. 'I should probably thank you.'

'Allia ordered you were to be fed. You don't have to thank me.' Lovell stated harshly.

John waved his spoon. 'I meant I should thank you for revealing the plot that Mitchell was going to be kidnapped.'

'I was under orders to do that too.' Lovell shot back.

John shrugged and tugged his blanket back into place when it was in danger of falling. He took another bite of soup. 'Mostly, I feel sorry for Stan. You know the guy you set up to be the patsy.'

Lovell flinched. Her face paled. 'How is he?'

Interesting, John considered. He could almost believe that she cared. 'He's fine. He helped us find the cell you had set up. The NID chastised him for his lone action but since you'd fooled everybody not just him, he didn't get any further punishment.' He waited a beat. 'Not that you care about that, right?'

Lovell flushed. Her freckled face burned bright red before she scowled at him. 'You don't know anything about my relationship with Stan.'

'I know that you pretended to be his friend…' John needled, licking his spoon.

'It wasn't a pretence!' Lovell snapped. She shifted position against the wall but the zat gun remained steady in her grip. 'Like I said you don't know anything about it. I had no choice.'

'There's always a choice.' John countered.

Lovell sneered at him. 'And you know nothing about living under the rule of the Alliance.'

John dipped more bread and chewed it thoughtfully. He reached for his spoon. 'You're right.' He conceded.

She lifted her eyebrows in startled fascination. 'You're admitting I'm right?' She sounded incredulous.

'I don't know anything about living under the rule of the Alliance,' John repeated; he lifted a shoulder and gave a half-smile. 'I've barely lived in this galaxy at all in the past five years.' He held her gaze. 'As you know.'

'Yes, because you've stolen Atlantis just as you've stolen other valuable artefacts that should have been ours.' Lovell argued.

'I had this same argument with a Council of Pegasus planets once.' John said. He pushed away the memory of his trial and realised Lovell was looking surprised again. 'Did you think you were the only one who has claims on her? If we left, you don't think there aren't a half-dozen civilisations – and I lose the term loosely – waiting to take her over?'

'We have as much right as anyone.' Lovell countered.

'You're not even in the same galaxy.' John shot back. He didn't think the Alliance knew about Atlantis being on Earth and he wasn't going to give away that she was. 'What makes your claim any more valid than ours? At least, the Pegasus worlds are there.' He pressed. 'And can you even use the technology?'

'We have the Ancient gene therapy.' Lovell said calmly. 'We should probably thank you for that.'

'The gene therapy is great.' John agreed. 'But it doesn't always work. For every Ancient device that allows the fake gene to work, there's one that doesn't.'

Lovell shook her head. 'I don't believe you.'

'I don't expect you to.' John admitted. 'But I'm telling the truth. Sometimes you need the real thing.'

'Well, now we have you.' Lovell said and he could see he'd convinced her. It was partly true although the percentages weren't as fifty-fifty as he made them. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, the fake gene worked just as well as his own, but there was that one per cent that baulked and wanted a real expression and usually that one per cent only wanted John's shiny Ancient gene which surpassed even that of Jack O'Neill's.

'You have me now,' John agreed calmly, 'but not for much longer knowing my team and SG1.' He knew he radiated confidence and when Lovell shifted again, another minute redistribution of her weight, he knew she was convinced he was right about his imminent rescue too.

He picked up the bowl and tilted it to scoop up the last of the soup. He focused on eating for a long moment before he finished and set it aside. The mug of coffee warmed his hands and he sipped it gratefully.

'So, you say I don't know anything about living under the Lucien Alliance,' John said conversationally, 'how about you tell me something?'

'I'm not here to educate you.' Lovell protested.

John remained silent and drank his coffee.

Lovell sighed with enough exasperation that he figured he was going on her list of Most Annoying Captives. 'Fine. You want to know what it's like? It's hell. It's day in and day out wondering whether today is the day that your leader will kill you because she's upset or having a bad day or…' she gestured with the zat gun, 'it's knowing that the rest would happily hand you to her for sport if it means they can go a day without being tortured or under her regard. It's knowing you only have yourself to rely on every day, every hour.'

John swallowed his coffee. 'Weren't things the same under the Goa'uld?' He found himself reluctantly interested.

'Yes and no.' Lovell said. 'Each Goa'uld controlled vast territory; sometimes they left overseers, most of the time they didn't.'

'Ah,' John got it, 'so most planets were enslaved to the Goa'uld but were rarely visited.'

'You paid your naquadah fee or whatever it was they waned and everything was fine.' Lovell agreed. 'Now though…the Alliance moved in on every world and since the Ori left…there's no escape from them. They control everything.'

'Not everything and every world.' John countered, because he knew that much. There were safe worlds; worlds allied to the SGC or the Tok'ra or the Jaffa Confederate.

Lovell laughed humourlessly. 'You mean the so called safe havens? The Tok'ra only want you if you consent to be a host; the Jaffa hate humans settling on their territory and…the Tau'ri only provide sanctuary if you have something to offer them.'

'That's not true.' John immediately denied. 'We give people sanctuary all the time for no reason and no reward but because they've asked for it and it's the right thing to do.'

Something flickered in her eyes.

'They tell you differently, don't they?' John remarked. 'They tell you that you have to have something of value for us because that's the way they prevent you from turning to us.'

'Yes.' Lovell said quietly. 'That's what they tell us.'

John tilted his head and held her gaze. 'Maybe you don't know as much about us as you think you do.'

Lovell regarded him thoughtfully. 'I've lived among you for a year. I've learned a lot.'

'What have you learned?' John was disheartened to get to the bottom of his mug. He put it down.

'That your people don't know the meaning of suffering.' She said with renewed hostility as though taking offence to his question.

'Well, that's not true.' John argued. 'I think some of the Middle East and African countries would disagree. And even in the West and more industrialised parts of the world, there are people who suffer; who live in poverty and go hungry and cold. Who end up being bullied and hurt because their leaders don't do enough to help them.'

Lovell sighed. 'It's still safer here than anywhere else in the galaxy.'

John didn't discount her opinion; he imagined Earth was safer in comparison than some other places for all it was a target. Homeworld did a lot to ensure that the public never knew about the alien threat; to keep their world safe from harm. The dangers on Earth though were very much the dangers in the rest of the galaxy; tyrants and torture; death and destruction. Was the way they'd rushed in and dismantled the Goa'uld any better than the way they'd handled Afghanistan or Iraq?

'At least you get to have friends here.' Lovell said. A ripple of shock travelled over her large eyes as though she couldn't believe she'd said such a thing.

John eased himself into a better sitting position and picked up the bread, folding it around the cheese like a sandwich. 'Stanley.' He guessed.

Lovell blushed again and didn't reply.

'He's a nice guy.' John commented. 'We had breakfast with him when you sent him to Miami. Seemed like a good guy who only wanted to do the right thing.'

'He is a good guy.' Lovell jumped to Stan's defence. 'He's…he doesn't realise how smart and special he is.'

'And he was your friend.' John stated firmly. 'He's really OK, you know. They didn't dock his pay or fire him. I think he's mostly hurt over the deception.' He paused for effect. 'He liked you; he thought you were his friend.'

Lovell's features crumpled and for a moment John thought she was going to cry. She got to her feet in a rush. 'You're finished eating. Move back to the wall.'

He swallowed down the rest of the bread and moved. His legs were stiff with the cold but he got to his feet. He walked back slowly and sank back into a sitting position as Lovell collected the tray, keeping the zat pointed at him all the while.

'You know,' John said as casually as he could, 'if you want sanctuary all you have to do is ask.'

Lovell's eyes blazed at him. 'You're in no position to offer anything.'

John shrugged and tugged the blanket tightly around himself; he wasn't giving it back. 'You really think Mitchell and I aren't going to survive and escape this?' He gestured around the cell. 'You've read the intelligence on us; you've heard the stories in the NID. You know what my team and SG1 are capable of doing; of surviving. Are you sure you want to bet on your boss?'

'I know what you're doing and it isn't going to work.' Lovell claimed. 'I won't help you escape.'

John smiled. 'Then we'll escape without you.'

Lovell scanned his face and frowned. 'You really believe that, don't you?'

John didn't bother answering.

She sidled up to the door and banged on it loudly. It opened up and Lovell left. The cell plunged back into darkness.

John sank back down to the ground and let his head fall back onto the wall. 'Should have done better, John.' He chastised himself softly. 'Should have convinced her to help.'

He shook off the negative thought and focused on the positive; Lovell wasn't as faithful to the Alliance as the Alliance wanted her to be. Her time as Lovell had seduced her. Long term cover assignments were like that. Lovell actually did seem remorseful about Stanley; actually did seem to care for Stanley. They made an unlikely couple but no more so than Jennifer and Rodney.

Maybe he'd done enough to get Lovell thinking about helping them. An escape would be quicker if they had someone on the inside. He'd convinced Todd, the Wraith, to help him escape so it wasn't outside of the realms of possibility that he'd convinced Lovell.

He sighed and moved; rewrapping the blanket around himself to create a sleeping bag effect. He closed his eyes and let himself drift.

He was so tired.

The day had been busy before they'd gotten captured and zatted. It was the middle of the night and he was exhausted. He didn't blame Mitchell. Truthfully, Rodney had called it at the breakfast when John had announced the holiday; John had a habit of getting into trouble. John snorted. Rodney could talk. He'd whisked Jennifer off to some physics conference and ended up saving the world from apocalyptic freeze lightening. John chuckled. He'd wished he'd been there to see it. It would have been cool.

He snickered again. Mad; he was finally losing it, John thought amused. Either that or he'd spent too much time in cells; had gotten too used to being a captive. That was a possibility. Life just wouldn't give him a break – or a vacation it seemed. His last vacation had stopped well short of the days of surfing and sun that he had been promised. He needed the time away from being in danger; being responsible; being captured…

Damn it.

John wasn't stupid despite the fact that he kept up the pretence of not knowing as much as he did. It helped his job if people underestimated his intelligence and capabilities. Only Rodney had ever called him on it openly – to the point where occasionally Rodney would try and encourage him to do his doctorate; Teyla did it without words, with just a look, when she was sure that he was being stupid on purpose; John was certain Ronon _knew_ but thankfully they'd never discussed it. Ever. He liked Ronon the best sometimes.

No, he wasn't stupid. He was too aware that he needed the downtime. Some of it was grief and he could admit that if only to himself; he'd lost too many people in the last few years. Some of it was the pressure of command. He'd gotten the job because he'd killed Sumner. It had been a mercy killing but a killing. He'd stumbled through the first year not knowing what he was doing but trying his best. When Colonel Everett had arrived with the cavalry during the siege, a part of John had been grateful to relinquish the responsibility despite his misgivings over Everett's own command style. The briefing on Earth drifted through his mind; he'd been convinced that he wouldn't get command; that at best he'd be returned to Atlantis as a Major to serve under someone else. His promotion and assignment had been a shock…

 _O'Neill's hand landed on his shoulder. 'Hank, Elizabeth; you don't mind if I steal our newest Lieutenant Colonel away for a brief chat?'_

 _Elizabeth's smile was tight but she nodded her acquiescence. Landry's was gleeful._

 _John sighed and gave into the inevitable. 'Sir.'_

 _O'Neill led him through the SGC and out of the mountain. Somehow they ended up at O'Neill's place, half-packed up with boxes everywhere, and sat out on his deck with two beers._

 _'So,' O'Neill said, 'you're the military CO now.'_

 _John nodded. He couldn't believe it._

 _'You know it shouldn't be you.'_

 _The words hurt more than John was prepared to show; he liked O'Neill; thought O'Neill liked him. He stared at the beer in his hand._

 _'You're not ready.' O'Neill continued. 'Elizabeth likes you and she's not prepared to listen because I, and the rest of the military, took her leadership away from her once and she's making sure we can't do it again. But there was a reason we appointed a Colonel in the first place and I think you know it.'_

 _'I don't have enough experience.' John said slowly._

 _'No, you don't.' O'Neill said. His brown eyes met John's with sympathy shining out of them like a beacon. 'And I think I can guess how many times in the last year you've second guessed yourself and how many times you wished Sumner was around to deal with the crap you had to deal with. I'm also guessing that mixed in with the delight about your promotion – and you deserve it, don't think you don't – that there's a fair amount of trepidation that you actually got assigned as CO because you already know it needs more experience than you have.'_

 _John swallowed some of his beer and nodded sharply._

 _'What you have, Sheppard, is great instincts, a truckload of luck and a leader who supports you.' O'Neill added. 'That counts for a lot.'_

 _'Yes, sir.'_

 _O'Neill waved his beer at him. 'I'm also giving you Evan Lorne.'_

 _'Lorne?'_

 _'Major. Experienced SGC team leader. Good guy.' O'Neill reeled off. 'He needs to think more outside of the box sometimes but he's solid; good with procedures and, well, weirdness.' He waited until John was looking at him again. 'He'll be your XO.'_

 _'I don't get a choice.' John stated, a little annoyed._

 _'No,' O'Neill said cheerfully, 'you need Lorne; trust me on that.' He smirked at John before he sobered abruptly. 'You'll do fine, Sheppard. You've been doing fine. If you hadn't, no matter what Elizabeth wanted you wouldn't have got the job.' He patted his shoulder. 'For what it's worth, I think you'll be great. Just you know…' he waved his beer at him, 'don't get yourself killed.'_

The bolts scraped open again and John snapped out of his doze, wondering how long it had been since he'd eaten and conversed with Lovell. He lurched to his feet, got tangled in the blanket and had only just righted himself when Mitchell was pushed unceremoniously through the door.

John gave up any idea of overpowering the glowering guard and instead caught Mitchell; his arms automatically going around the other man as he leaned to take Mitchell's weight.

'Sorry,' gasped Mitchell, clutching at John's shoulders.

''S'OK.' John said as the door closed and locked again.

He staggered back to the wall and slowly, as slow as he could manage, lowered Mitchell down to the ground. His eyes catalogued Mitchell's injuries. There was bruising around his face; a burn mark on his chest; a hand print along one bicep; scratch marks along his ribs. His knees were purple with bruising and there was a row of livid welts along his back; he'd been flogged. John recognised the pattern from seeing it mark his own skin once.

'It's not as bad as it looks.' Mitchell said quietly. 'She had them heal some of it.'

John didn't reply. He moved to retrieve the water bottle the guard had given him and held it out to Mitchell.

Mitchell took a couple of careful sips and handed it back. 'Thanks.'

'Did they at least feed you?' John asked, feeling guilty about the meal he had consumed.

Mitchell nodded. 'I had something.' He breathed out sharply and held a hand to his chest. 'I think they've demanded an exchange; me for the woman pretending to be Allia.' His eyes met John's regretfully. 'I think they plan on keeping you.'

John's heart jolted a little with the news but he smiled for Mitchell's benefit. 'Well, I am prettier than you.'

Mitchell laughed weakly.

'You shouldn't be on the floor when you're injured; it's too cold and you need to keep warm.' John said. 'And I don't think you're going to be able to move around on those knees much.' He contemplated everything and sighed. He got the blanket and manoeuvred Mitchell forward until there was space between him and the wall. John climbed in behind him so that Mitchell ended up sat between the vee of his legs.

'Uh, Sheppard…'

'Cold weather training; you know the drill.' John said succinctly. 'Suck it up.' He shifted, pushing his legs underneath Mitchell's and levering them off the icy floor and ignored Mitchell's grunt of pain. He spread the blanket over both of them, putting his arms around Mitchell to hold it as gently as he could over Mitchell's chest.

'Thanks.' Mitchell said eventually. 'Not that I don't appreciate this but…'

'Don't worry,' John said smiling, 'it's going on The List.'

Mitchell made a snuffle of agreement. 'OK, then.' He relaxed in John's hold and John was pleased at the warmth of another body against his. 'I need to tell you…things…'

'Get some rest first, Mitchell.' John ordered. 'We can plan the escape later.'

'OK.' Mitchell sighed.

John waited and a few moments later he wasn't surprised to hear Mitchell's breathing even out. Mitchell's weight slumped into John and he felt a rush of protectiveness. They needed to plan an escape because he was damned if he was losing Mitchell.


	24. Chapter 24

_Banks hadn't said anything since just before the crash._

 _That was bad._

 _Cam knew it meant the kid was unconscious (or dead, but no; he wasn't going there). He tried to shift but his legs were trapped under the twisted remains of the console. The wind was cold and battered his torn and bruised face. It was getting dark but he'd managed to switch the lights on so they'd be visible to a rescue._

 _If a rescue was coming…_

 _It would come, Cam thought groggily. He just had to hold on. But it was so cold and he was in so much pain…he moved and it flashed through him again along his spine and down his ribs and God he couldn't take it, couldn't take it anymore and…_

Cam jerked awake with a sharp cry. His body bowed upwards trying to escape the pain in his back. Arms immediately tightened around him to hold him steady; forceful but careful not to hurt him.

'Easy, Mitchell.' John whispered in his ear. 'It's OK. I've got you.'

John. He was with John and not trapped back in his crashed 302. Just captured by insane Lucien Alliance operatives and stuck on a ship in Antarctica, Cam's mind supplied with dry irony.

'Sorry.' Cam said softly, relaxing. 'Nightmare.'

John kept hold of him and Cam was grateful for the solidity of John's presence warming his back.

'You want to talk about it?' John offered hesitantly.

'Not really.' Cam knew what had brought it on and there was something more important to focus on. 'We need to get out of here.'

John made a humming sound in agreement. Cam eased away from John and John stilled him with one hand on his arm.

'Shuffle forward. I'll get up and help you.' John was matter-of-fact as though the plan wasn't necessary because Cam was badly injured.

Cam flushed anyway and nodded. He inched forward, aware of the pain that spiked through him with every move. Cold air wafted in the space he'd built between himself and John – John who was very carefully extracting his legs from under Cam's. Cam sucked in a breath as sharp arrows of pain jolted through his knees.

'Sorry.' John said apologetically as he clambered to his feet. He crouched beside Cam for a long moment. 'You ready?'

Cam clutched the blanket John had tugged around him and nodded. He grasped John's hand and let the other man take most of his weight as they got upright. Cam grimaced and closed his eyes as he slowly took his own weight back onto his damaged knees.

'OK,' John said, 'we'll do a walk around the room to get loosened up and then a strategy session.'

Cam nodded in agreement. He opened his eyes and let John lead him round the room like he was an old man in need of a supportive hand at his elbow. It was excruciating but Cam had suffered worse during his recovery from the crash he had dreamt about and as his muscles warmed up, they loosened, easing the tension and pain to a more bearable level. By the time he'd made it back to the original spot, he didn't need John to support him and Cam counted that as a win.

They sank back against the far wall and took turns taking a gulp of water from the bottle John had stashed away. John slid right up beside him and Cam rearranged the blanket over both of them; they needed to share body heat and what little covering they had.

'We're near Antarctica.' Cam began. 'That's why it's so cold. I could see land off to the side of the ship; it's all covered in ice.'

'So, good news is that we're not far from help if we can get to McMurdo; bad news is that we need to acquire clothes before we step out onto the deck to get there.' John listed off briskly.

Cam nodded. 'I had clothes but they took them again. There're two choppers and a 302 on the deck.'

John's eyes lit up and he smiled; Cam could see it even in the darkness.

'A helicopter?' John sounded giddy. 'I haven't flown one since…well, actually, before I went to Atlantis.'

'Well, you have to fly one today because we have to take a helicopter.' Cam corrected immediately. 'Amy's here and…' his voice gave way abruptly. He lifted a hand and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. God; Amy was a Goa'uld host.

'Mitchell?' John prompted. 'They captured Amy?'

'They've made her a host to try and get information out of me.' Cam said roughly. His skin felt too tight; guilt and worry coalescing into an ugly tight ball in his stomach. 'She's being held in a room on the other side of the ship.'

'That complicates things.' John said crisply, staying in military mode and Cam was grateful for that.

Cam pulled himself out of his emotional morass to focus again. 'I can find my way back there but the 302 only seats two so…'

'So, we take a helicopter.' John agreed. He tucked the blanket more securely around himself. 'We'll need to immobilise her.'

'Zat.' Cam replied promptly.

'Which means we're carrying her.' John commented practically.

Or John was, Cam translated in his head because it was clear Cam would have a challenge to walk with his injuries never mind carry Amy.

'OK, so; escape the cell, find some clothes, grab Amy, get to a helicopter and fly to McMurdo.' John reeled off briskly. 'Plan A shouldn't be impossible.'

'Any ideas on escaping the cell?' Cam asked wearily. Because it was their greatest stumbling block.

'I had an interesting chat with Gina Lovell.' John relayed his conversation and Cam's eyes widened with every revelation.

'You think she has a thing for Stanley?' Cam couldn't believe it. ' _Our_ Stanley?'

'I know.' John said with obvious amusement. 'But it could work in our favour.'

'I'm not sure we have time for it to work in our favour.' Cam admitted with reluctance. 'Maybe we can try something when they come to take me again.' He thought that was more likely to happen before Lovell changed her mind and helped them.

'OK.' John said. 'Do you have any ideas how to take the guard out before we get zatted?'

Cam thought about it. 'You got surprised by the lights.'

' _We_ got surprised by the lights and yeah; it takes at least a moment to adjust.' John said defensively. 'It gives them an advantage to get in and get the gun on us before we can do anything more than blink.'

'I could take them out in the corridor.' Cam said, thinking about the way they'd lined up. 'There are two of them but not a lot of space; it's doable.' But not without risk and it would hurt like hell.

'I think that's our best option.' John's reluctance dripped heavily from every word. 'If you can take them down, you can get me out. We can steal their clothes and take the zat.'

'Make our way to Amy; get Amy; get back to a chopper.' Cam concluded.

John frowned suddenly. 'You said the 302 is on the deck?'

'Yeah.'

'Then why hasn't the Odyssey located it already?' John asked.

'Cloak.' Cam supplied. 'Crap; I'd forgotten about that.'

'We can blow up the ship enough to disrupt and bring down the cloak hopefully.' John shifted beside him and Cam instinctively followed the warmth, pressing closer.

'Cold?' John asked concerned. He pushed back into Cam's space and Cam sighed with relief as John's heat helped soothe his battered body.

'It had to be Antarctica.' Cam muttered. 'It couldn't have been the tropics or some Caribbean beach somewhere.'

'I like Antarctica.' John remonstrated.

'Deadly.' Cam retorted without thinking. He realised a heartbeat later how much he'd given away with his single word.

John let it go though. He'd probably guessed that Cam was referring to the crash, Cam realised. John was good that way; he wouldn't ask for details.

'It was…' Cam began before he stopped and tried again. 'The nightmare before; it was the crash. Just…the cold and the pain, you know.' He shook his head, trying to get the images out of his head. 'It was incredible that day. You know how it is in a squadron; most of the time you're waiting for something to happen and we'd practiced and had games and manoeuvres but it was the real thing. An actual battle against aliens.' He sighed. 'And all we knew is that we had to protect SG1; make sure they made it because they were going to save the world.'

'It must have been intense.' John commented quietly. 'We saw the light show from McMurdo but…'

'Not the same.' Cam completed. 'That didn't start until later. It was just the gliders at first and us rushing to meet them. It was a hell of a dog fight. Most of my squad didn't make it.'

John didn't say anything; he didn't have to. Cam figured he was thinking back to the Wraith attack. John had been one of the few survivors of that 302 run. It hurt to lose good men; pilots.

'We were doing OK but we got hit and we already had damage. Banks stopped talking to me and we were going down.' Cam's voice rose with remembered panic. 'Everything was white; everything. Ice and snow and I could see we were going to crash land in the middle of nowhere with no help and…'

John placed a hand on Cam's forearm. 'You got the 302 down.'

'I wrecked her.' Cam corrected. 'The top cover was shattered by a tree or something. I got hit in the face. The front of the cockpit trapped my legs. I was jarred enough that I cracked my spine.' He wet his lips. 'And Banks was already dead. I didn't know it at the time.'

'You made it though.' John said. He hesitated briefly before continuing. 'They said you got the lights switched on.'

'I was out of it when they pulled me out.' Cam replied with a shrug, wincing when it set off another wave of pain. 'I was out of it for weeks afterwards.' He shifted to look at John. 'Sam saved my legs. She healed me with the Goa'uld device. If she hadn't I would have lost them. There was too much damage. As it is, I have glue and sticking tape everywhere holding them altogether. Same with my spine.'

'Somehow, I don't think losing your legs would have crippled you though.' John commented. 'Your Dad's incredible.'

Cam smiled; glad John had gotten to know him well enough that he knew what had kept Cam going without him having to say anything. 'I thought about my Dad all the time. Every day when I got up to learn to walk again. I kept thinking if he could do it, I could do it and…and I had O'Neill's promise.'

'Of SG1?' John moved to tug the blanket more securely around them.

'He promised me SG1 but he didn't promise the people in SG1 as part of the deal.' Cam said ruefully. 'I blame the drugs for not picking up on it.'

'He does have his own unique way of doing things.' John said with a laugh.

'I don't know how he led SG1 for so long.' Cam said with a sigh. 'How he kept himself mission fit for all those years. I mean, I'm not old but he was in the field when he was older than me and I…I'm…' he couldn't say it.

'You're struggling.'

The statement stilled Cam; relief flooded him that someone _knew_ ; had noticed.

'Yeah,' he sighed, letting the truth out into the open air for the first time since the doctors had warned him. He gave a harsh laugh. 'Is it that obvious?'

John patted his arm soothingly. 'We've been living in each other's pockets for over a week, Mitchell, and…' he lifted his hand and gestured at him vaguely, 'I guessed.'

Cam remembered his almost collapse at his parents' farm when his leg had cramped on him severely and nodded his acceptance of John's explanation slowly. 'I'm mission fit.' He said defensively anyway. 'It's…mainly I take longer to recover these days afterwards.'

'You don't owe me an explanation.' John said quickly.

And he didn't. If anyone was owed an explanation it was his team because the majority of the time it was Cam's recovery time keeping them grounded to the SGC instead of off-world somewhere. But he hadn't because if he talked to them then he would have to admit that he was struggling to keep up, struggling to remain a part of the team and why and…

God.

He was stupid. Cam closed his eyes and sighed heavily. This, he deduced with a heavy sense of guilt; _this_ was why he hadn't wanted to talk to his team for months. Amy had been an excuse to hide from the truth that any discussion about his future would involve a discussion about _this_.

'What?' John asked, shifting against him. His hand landed back on Cam's forearm; anchoring and steadying him.

'I haven't talked about it with anyone except the docs and a little with Amy back when we started dating.' Cam confessed, needing to tell someone and knowing, trusting, that John would keep his confidence. 'After we came back from the Ori galaxy, Carolyn sat me down with a specialist and explained that while all the surgery they'd done after the crash had put me back together again, all my exploits since, but especially getting beaten up by a replicator version of the Terminator, meant that everything was coming undone.'

'Amy mentioned surgery when she was talking to you at the coffee shop.' John murmured; a hint of a question in his words.

'They wanted to do it back then.' Cam explained. 'Only I said no. I took a month off and…' he gestured feebly at his body. 'I considered it but…' he looked up at the ceiling, 'it took me months to recover the first time and I knew if I said yes it was goodbye field work. Even if I had the surgery and could get myself mission fit again, they'd break the band up in the meantime and SG1 would be someone else's and…' he stumbled to a halt feeling too raw and exposed.

Because losing SG1 was the same as grounding him; clipping his wings.

John's hand tightened on his arm. 'I get it.'

'I can remember talking with Amy about it.' Cam admitted. 'You know just saying scenarios out loud trying to make it OK if Carolyn insisted on the surgery when I went back after the medical leave. I guess somewhere in my head I linked marriage with having the surgery and…'

And that was why he hadn't wanted to truly marry Amy apart from the underlying truth that he hadn't been with her for the right reason.

'And now?'

'Carolyn wants me to have the surgery. She brought it up at my last physical.' Cam said dully.

'Ah.' John frowned. 'And what happens if you don't have the surgery?'

'Another year if I'm lucky.' Cam admitted. But at the end of it he would have damaged his body permanently; Carolyn had told him that too.

He was glad of the darkness. He didn't want to see John's pity. Instead, he felt John squeeze his arm again and let go.

'Why not have the surgery now?' John questioned. 'Landry likes you; he could assign someone TDA to lead SG1. You recovered from it once before; you could do it again.'

Cam's throat closed up. He couldn't explain the terror he felt at the idea of going through the surgery all over again. He'd survived it once but…

'And you're not alone this time,' John continued, 'you'd have your team. They'd help you.'

'Like you're trusting your team to help you with your problems.'

The words tumbled out sharply and Cam winced as he felt John tense beside him. Cam wiped a hand over his face. He hadn't meant to say that or confront John in any way. John hadn't confided in him and he had no right to stick his nose in John's business.

'Sorry.' Cam said.

There was a long silence.

'You're right.' John admitted tersely. 'I haven't confided in my team any more than you've confided in yours.'

'Why not?' asked Cam, because he'd seen John with his team and there was no doubt in Cam's mind that they would be there for John if only John would let them in.

'Because I don't.' John admitted softly. He sighed and leaned closer to Cam. 'That first year, there was no one to talk to when I might have even wanted to talk. Everyone needed me to look like I knew what I was doing. I _couldn't_ say anything. And then…it became usual for me _not_ to say anything.' he shrugged. 'After a while I realised I didn't need to; that my team would _know_ without me saying anything, you know?'

'I know.'

'But…they have their own lives these days and,' John rubbed the back of his neck, 'so I haven't said anything and they haven't…so…' he sighed again, 'it's easier not to. I don't want to…just because I'm…feeling like crap, I don't want them not to be happy.'

Cam sympathised with him. He nudged John's shoulder in silent support.

'You think it's because we're the leaders?' Cam wondered out loud. 'Do you think that's why we haven't talked with them?'

'I think Teyla would probably tell us that we haven't talked to them because we're useless at talking.' John said dryly.

Cam laughed at that. 'She'd probably be right.'

'She's rarely wrong.' John said fondly. 'It's very annoying.'

'Teal'c's like that.' Cam sighed. 'I'm going to have to tell them, aren't I?'

'For what it's worth, you know what I've noticed about SG1?'

'What?' Cam asked, genuinely interested.

John met his eyes, and Cam could sense the amusement lurking there. 'Nobody ever really leaves.'

Cam laughed but shook his head.

'No, really.' John patted his arm again. 'Look at Sam and O'Neill, they're still SG1. They may not wear the badge anymore or go out with you on missions as SG1 but they _are_ SG1.'

Cam swallowed around a lump in his throat, a jealousy he had never wanted to admit to gnawing at his gut. Because that was part of the problem, he mused inwardly. There was always the lurking suspicion in his head that Teal'c and Daniel preferred the original formation of the team to the one they had now. Which was unfair on them, Cam thought wearily, because he knew that Daniel and Teal'c were both fully committed to SG1; to Vala; to Cam. But if there was a choice…if they had to choose…Cam shivered.

'Your team has six people in it,' John continued, apparently oblivious to Cam's inner thoughts, 'and even if the worst happens and you have to take a different assignment, it's not going to stop you being SG1 to them.'

There was something so concrete in what John said that it resonated with Cam sharply. Jonas Quinn; the name sprang to his mind without prompting. Quinn who'd spent a year with SG1 when Daniel had Ascended. They'd lost him for a while under the Ori rule of Langara but when he'd made contact again…if Quinn was Earthside for a diplomatic event, he came out with the team; he stayed with Daniel and the last time he'd stayed with Cam because Cassie Fraiser had been staying with Daniel. It was evident that Quinn was considered part of the team. Something eased in Cam; the jealousy loosened its hold and slipped away.

'Damn.' Cam murmured.

'What?'

'There're seven of us on SG1.' He gestured when he saw John's incomprehension. 'Jonas Quinn. He was with them the sixth year when Daniel went off to be Ascended. I just realised…'

'He's part of your team.' John's voice rang with amusement.

'What about you?' Cam shot back. 'You going to talk to your team?'

'Already have a drinks thing lined up with Rodney to talk about my Dad.' John said smugly. His smile faded and his face settled into contemplation. 'And Dave and I, uh, we've talked some…about our Mom.'

'That's good.' Cam said surprised.

'Yeah.' John shook his head. 'All this time we never said anything to each other and now…' he sighed. 'We're never going to be an advertisement for a well-adjusted family but we're better than we were.' He looked over at Cam. 'Your Dad – hell, your whole family is great.'

'I'm lucky.' Cam agreed. He'd already realised that in his own comparison between Patrick Sheppard and Frank Mitchell.

The sound of the lock turning had John on his feet immediately. He helped Cam up and Cam handed him the blanket.

'You sure you can take them?' John asked quietly.

Cam took a deep breath and nodded. It would be close but he had a plan of attack. The lights went on and they blinked it out of their eyes as the guard stepped in.

He snarled at Cam and lifted the zat gun. 'Your time's up, Mitchell. Allia's ready for you.'

Mitchell smiled at him. He nodded at John who waved for him to get going already.

A bolt of blue suddenly shot through the open doorway and slapped into the guard, sending his body jerking to the floor.

Cam and John both turned in shock.

Lovell stood there with a tight smile on her face, her eyes on John. 'Sanctuary?'

'Sanctuary.' John promised.

Cam saw only sincerity written across John's face; he was sure Lovell could see it too.

Lovell nodded. 'Then, come with me.'

It wasn't like they were going to argue, Cam thought as he watched John stoop to pick up the zat and keys; Cam followed him and Lovell out of the cell.


	25. Chapter 25

John's heart beat wildly but he tried to keep up a calm front as he locked the door and turned to Lovell. He was amazed that she had actually agreed to help them but he had promised her sanctuary and he would do his best to keep his promise.

'We need clothes.' He said promptly.

Cam nodded furiously. 'Clothes.' He said in fervent agreement. He stared wide-eyed at Lovell as though he couldn't believe that she had come through for them either.

Lovell nodded although her eyes travelled over both of them with a hint of a smirk. John ignored the urge to cover himself like a blushing Victorian maiden and brazened it out.

'This way.' Lovell turned and began making her way down the narrow corridor. Mitchell fell into step behind her and John followed, awkwardly holding the zat. He'd had training on how to use them but they weren't standard issue for the Atlantis expedition. He had no idea why Sumner had decided against them originally but he'd kept to the decision when it had been his decision to make primarily because they had their own stun weapons liberated from the Wraith and it seemed to make sense to keep Pegasus weapons in Pegasus.

John shook his thoughts away and kept his focus on Lovell. They'd traversed quite a distance and hadn't come across another guard but John figured it was only a matter of time. The ship was huge, probably an old cargo ship of some sort that had been modified, he mused, but it was big enough to hold a number of Alliance guards.

Mitchell's eyes drifted back to him in a silent check and John gave a nod to confirm that everything was fine. Mitchell was limping badly. John thought of Mitchell's confession about the surgery. He had sensed it was a difficult topic for Mitchell to talk about and he didn't blame him for keeping it quiet.

The Air Force was a competitive game. As much as team-work was encouraged, pilots in particular knew they were in competition with each other for spaces on squads, for the best aircraft, for flight time. They had to be fit and ready; flying a fighter aircraft – especially one without alien technology smoothing the way, never mind one with – took an incredible amount of skill and stamina. There had to be no question over fitness.

That Mitchell had made it back from the injuries he'd sustained once had been a miracle and he sensed that Mitchell feared he couldn't do it twice. But Mitchell had an inner core of steel and John was certain his friend could do it.

They'd all help him through it, John determined. It wasn't as though Mitchell was without support. His team would be there for him; his family – Frank and Wendy who were fantastic and supportive; and John. He considered Mitchell a friend now, he realised thinking back to his own wonderings about why he'd been at the bucks' night before the vacation. If Mitchell went through the surgery, John would find some way to help him even if he was back in Pegasus.

Lovell went up a ladder; Mitchell following her grimacing all the way. John sighed and followed. He'd done one stint on an aircraft carrier during his Special Ops days and he hadn't enjoyed it. The ship had felt too enclosing and he'd been glad when their next assignment had come through and they'd headed for land again.

There was another narrow corridor waiting for him after he'd traversed the ladder.

Lovell glanced back. 'It's not far now.'

John and Mitchell both nodded to her, and they continued to walk in silence. John felt the sting of cold every time he placed his feet and was hard pressed not to flinch. He was cold, very cold. He couldn't wait to get clothes and shoes; to wrap himself up warmly again. He hadn't lied to Mitchell, he did consider Antarctica beautiful but then it had been a refuge for him rather than a punishment in the end.

When he'd first arrived at McMurdo he'd been resentful and angry; at the Air Force for the black mark and what he'd thought was the death knell on his career; at his father for the words they'd exchanged in anger; at Dave for supporting his father; at the few friends that he'd had melting away to avoid being caught up in John's downfall.

But there had been something peaceful about the ice and snow when he'd patrolled. The other guys in the squad had kept their distance although one or two had reached out. John had gone along a couple of times for beers and to watch games but mostly he'd stayed alone and it had given him time to think, to grieve for what he'd lost. He'd needed Antarctica.

And he knew deep down that he needed something similar again. It had been five years of carrying a heavy responsibility that weighed on his shoulders; five years of losses; five years of constant battling against enemies and fighting to save friends; and it had been four years of silence from his family before his Dad had died and he and Dave had reconnected. He was exhausted.

Focus, John, he berated himself. He could indulge in his very own pity party when they were safe and not before.

Mitchell had surprised John in facing him with his knowledge that John wasn't leaning on his team. John flushed just thinking about it. All his reasons for not confiding his grief and his pain in his friends were valid; he believed that. His friends were finding their own happiness; they didn't need him bringing them down and making them miserable. But deep down he knew that they would want to be there for him; would be there for him.

Finally – finally – they came to a door and Lovell gestured at John to pass her the set of keys he had filched from the guard. John tossed them to her wordlessly. He didn't trust her, not completely, but he figured he had to in the short term. Hell, he'd trusted a Wraith; trusting an Alliance operative wasn't any different.

The door led to a locker room and Lovell ushered them inside swiftly.

'We should be safe in here for a short time.' Lovell said before walking over to one locker and opening it. She waved at them to have at it before she opened another locker and moved away to sit on the central bench.

John looked at the first locker contents with interest. There were two flight suits; green without identifying patches. He handed one to Mitchell and grabbed the second for himself. He briefly mourned the loss of his own clothing but he dressed quickly, unwilling to have the zat – the only weapon they had – out of his hands for any length of time.

The second locker held their boots. John shoved his numb feet into the comfy warmth and quickly laced them part of the way up. He sat up as he finished and waited for Mitchell. His friend was moving slowly but efficiently.

Lovell got up and retrieved three coats from a rack at the back of the room. She handed them out and John slipped his arms into one with gratitude. His body was still cold under the layers of clothing but it would warm up.

Lovell took a step toward the door and John held up a hand.

'We need to talk about the plan before we go much further.'

'You have a plan?' Lovell asked sceptically.

'Of course there's a plan.' John retorted.

Lovell raised an elegant eyebrow. 'You forget that I've read the intelligence reports, Colonel.'

John opened his mouth and shut it again. He threw a look at a smirking Mitchell. 'You can't talk either.'

Mitchell raised a hand in supplication. 'We need a new plan anyway.' He sobered quickly. 'Our priority has to be getting Amy next.'

'Your girlfriend?' Lovell shook her head. 'They've implanted her with a Goa'uld. She's lost to you.'

John winced at Lovell's bluntness.

'I know she's been implanted with a Goa'uld.' Mitchell responded tersely. 'I saw the scarline.' His blue eyes glittered. 'I'm not leaving her behind.'

'We,' John corrected, 'we are not leaving her behind.'

'You can't save her.' Lovell argued.

'The Tok'ra can extract the Goa'uld.' Mitchell shot back. 'Amy will survive this.'

Lovell looked as though she wanted to argue more.

John jumped in before she could say anything. 'Can you get us to where they're keeping her?'

Lovell pulled a face, her pretty features twisting, but she sighed and gave a nod. 'I can. She is on the other side of the ship though and we will need to walk a short distance across the deck.' Her gaze met his challengingly. 'It will be dangerous.'

John nodded his understanding. 'OK, we'll,' he lifted the zat, 'stun her as soon as we can get the door open.'

Mitchell waved at Lovell. 'Do you have another weapon?'

Lovell stared at him; her view of him was clear – she didn't trust him. But she silently moved to a chest, unlocked it and handed him another zat.

'Once we have Amy we'll need to get to a helicopter.' Mitchell said, his fingers closing around the weapon tightly.

'What about the cloaking device?' John asked Lovell. 'Where is it?'

'The main control system is on the bridge.' Lovell said. 'The helicopter is armed with missiles; you should be able to destroy it.' She paused. 'You will need to destroy it. The helicopter cannot pass beyond the cloak.'

'Great.' John tried to keep the discomfort off his face. It would be tight blowing up the cloak and keeping the helicopter from getting caught in the blast. He could do it though; he'd had tighter assignments.

'If we bring the cloak down, it's possible that the Odyssey will beam us out.' Mitchell added encouragingly. 'The spy who beamed us here is on board this ship, right? He's not still on the Odyssey.'

Lovell's lips curled into an ugly spy. 'Allia killed him but not before he confirmed that he had destroyed the technology. We will not be beamed out.'

John exchanged a wry look with Mitchell; both of them knew their teams would be working on the problem – Rodney was in likelihood up on the Odyssey fixing it, John mused.

'I think you'll be surprised.' John said mildly.

'What about our earpieces?' Mitchell asked suddenly. 'Do you have those?' He looked at John. 'If we get the cloak down we can communicate with the Odyssey; request 302 support.'

'Good point.' John agreed, turning back to Lovell expectantly.

She grimaced again but unlocked another chest and rooted around in it. She pulled out the earpieces. She passed them onto John who handed one to Mitchell and looped the other one over his ear. Lovell hesitated for a long moment and then pulled out a tangle of chains. She silently placed the bundle into John's open palm.

He disentangled his own dog tags, handed Mitchell's to him, and slipped the chain back over his neck, placing the tags under his clothing next to his skin.

The sense of comfort the familiar weight engendered wasn't new to John. His dog tags meant something to him; the identity he had chosen rather than one gifted to him by birth and the virtue (or curse) of being Patrick Sheppard's son.

Mitchell patted his shoulder. 'You ready to do this?'

John gave a brief nod. 'You?'

'As much as I've enjoyed our stay, I'm ready to leave.' Mitchell quipped.

Lovell's eyes rolled at the joke. 'This way.' She paused at the door, peeking out to check that nobody was around before she led them out.

John kept track of the route but hurried along. Mitchell was back in the middle again, limping badly but keeping pace with Lovell who wasn't slowing down or making any allowances for him.

The step out into the open air of the deck was a wake-up call; icy air slapping into him hard. He sucked in a breath and winced at the sharpness of air in his lungs. The ice in the distance was a welcome sight though. Antarctica; it had been good for him once, hopefully it would be again.

He breathed out. They could do this.

They kept low and to the sides of walls as they traversed the deck. Mitchell pointed out the helicopters and John's heart sank at the distance they would need to travel back with Amy. It was going to be slow and he couldn't believe Allia wouldn't notice that the guard hadn't turned up with Mitchell before then.

He sighed. There was nothing to do but carry on with the plan. They slipped into another side door and Lovell led the way back through more corridors before they came to a door.

'This is the surveillance room.' Mitchell whispered, catching Lovell's arm before she could open the door.

Lovell glared at him. 'We need to take out the guard before we go in for her or would you rather he set off the alarms when we grab her?'

Mitchell looked chagrined. 'Right. Sorry.' He let her go and waved towards the door. 'After you.'

Lovell shot John a look and he offered a half-smile in apology. She set her shoulders, armed the zat and opened the door. She immediately fired off the zat as soon as the door swung open and John heard the thump of a body crashing to the ground. He winced in sympathy. He followed Lovell into the room, silently signalling for Mitchell to stand guard, and glanced at the surveillance monitor.

Amy sat on the bed reading a magazine. There was a mug in her hand and she looked to all extents and purposes like a bored housewife.

'The keys will be on the guard.' Lovell instructed.

John grimaced but obligingly patted down the felled man. He plucked the keys from the pocket of the jacket and held them up. 'Let's go.'

Lovell paused, turned back and fired off two more zat rounds. The guard disappeared.

'What did you do that for?' John said. He was shocked at the ruthlessness of her action especially since she'd only just changed sides.

'We can't afford him coming to and raising the alarm.' Lovell said brusquely.

He held back the sharp words that hovered on his tongue. Lovell's world was not his world, John reminded himself silently. The only important thing was that they got the hell off the ship and if that meant Lovell erasing every single Alliance member on board, well, maybe John could live with that even if he wouldn't make the same choice. He followed Lovell out. Mitchell's look spoke volumes but John gestured for him to let it go.

The door to Amy's room wasn't far.

John turned to Lovell. 'I'll unlock it. You go in and do your thing.' He whispered.

'I'll go in.' Mitchell whispered back.

'No.' John shook his head. 'You might hesitate to fire. Hell, I might hesitate to fire and we both know how strong someone with a Goa'uld is. We can't take that chance. She fires.' He held Mitchell's gaze determinedly.

He could understand Mitchell's distrust of Lovell especially with what had just happened but John knew he was right.

Mitchell gave a nod of agreement and limped across the corridor to take up a watch and guard position.

John breathed a silent sigh of relief and glanced at Lovell to check she was ready. She nodded. John slid the key in the lock and turned it. He held up three fingers and counted them off silently, opening the door fluidly on the number three.

Lovell immediately stepped inside and fired the weapon. There was no thump but John figured the bed had caught Amy and when he got inside he found he was right; Amy was slumped over onto her side. The tea had spilled everywhere and her blouse was wet through.

'Do we have a coat for her?' John kicked himself for not remembering when they'd been in the locker room.

Lovell moved to open a closet and took out a coat. She helped John manoeuvre Amy into it. John tucked the zat into the deep pockets of his own coat and hoisted Amy over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

'OK.' He said.

They moved back out of the room and into the corridor. Mitchell's face brightened with relief as he saw Amy draped over John's shoulder.

'Let's go.' John ordered. They needed to get to the helicopter ASAP. He had the sense that time was running out for them; if he were Allia, he would already have sent someone to check on why Mitchell hadn't turned up for her little get together.

They made their way down the corridor and surprised a guard coming round a corner. Lovell didn't hesitate again. She zatted them before the guy could draw his own weapon. She fired again and again.

Mitchell paled; his lips tightened but he didn't say anything. John kept his own counsel. They trudged onward. Amy wasn't heavy but she wasn't a lightweight. John regretted not spending more time in the gym.

They had just stepped out onto the deck when the alarm sounded through the ship; a loud klaxon that made John want to duck and cover his ears.

'Crap.' Mitchell said as they hurried to cover behind a wall. John gently placed Amy down and Mitchell tugged her lax body close to him, protecting her.

Lovell crouched beside them. 'What now?'

John looked out at the guards running across the deck; there weren't as many as he feared but they were all taking up positions that cut them off from the helicopters. His eyes landed on the nearby 302.

'Plan C.' He suggested, moving back. He nudged Mitchell. 'You take the 302.'

Mitchell's eyes widened. 'But…'

'There is only room for two in the 302.' Lovell pointed out. 'Am I the passenger?'

'No,' John placed his hand on her arm to stop her talking, 'Mitchell will take Amy in the 302. He can disrupt the cloak. Worst case scenario is that they believe it's me and Mitchell in the 302 and we'll be able to sneak around and leave in the helicopter. Best case scenario is that as soon as the cloak comes down we all get beamed back to the Odyssey.'

'Good plan.' Mitchell agreed. 'But I don't like leaving you on board.' His eyes flickered to Lovell.

'We'll be fine.' John said.

Lovell's look gave away that she hadn't missed any of the subtext of their exchange. 'What happens if this plan goes wrong?'

John shrugged. 'We move onto plan D.' He smirked at her. 'As long as we don't get to plan F we're fine.'

Mitchell snorted.

'If we're going to do this, we should do it now.' Lovell said with a weary expression that said she had no idea what they had found amusing and she wasn't going to ask.

John took a breath and nodded seriously. He pointed at Lovell. 'Cover us.' He stooped and picked up Amy. 'After you, Mitchell.'

They eased their way onto the deck. Mitchell took out one guard near to the 302 and a bolt of blue lightening hit another on the other side. John shot Lovell an acknowledging look of gratitude as they hurried towards the aircraft.

Mitchell did a cursory check of the outside while John climbed the ladder and placed Amy into the back seat. He tucked in her limbs as gently as he could; put a helmet on her and strapped her in. He disabled the back controls so if the Goa'uld woke up she wouldn't be able to control the ship. He got back onto the ground as Mitchell finished.

'Good luck.' John held out his hand.

Mitchell pulled him into a quick hug instead. 'Take care.' He said as he stepped back. He hauled himself up the ladder and into the 302. John pushed the ladder aside and from the corner of his eyes, he saw another guard who had been sneaking behind him hit the deck.

Good. Lovell was keeping her side of the bargain. He skipped back and rejoined her as Mitchell fired up the 302 engines and taxied around to the small runway the deck provided. The spy who'd died bringing the 302 down had to have been a hell of a pilot, John mused.

Lovell poked him. 'Now what?'

'We need to be well away from the bridge.' John stated. 'Come on. Let's get to the helicopter.' He inched around the wall.

As much as John didn't want to acknowledge it openly, they moved faster without Mitchell limping alongside them and without John having to carry Amy. The 302 taking off had led most of the guards to the other end, shooting helplessly up at the aircraft as it hovered over the ship; the one or two that were left had been easily dispatched by Lovell and John. The helicopters were in front of them.

'Sheppard, Mitchell. Can you read me?'

John tapped his earpiece. 'I read you.'

'Are you clear of the bridge area?' Mitchell asked briskly.

'Clear.'

'Fire in the hole.' Mitchell quipped.

The sound of the missile zipping through the air had John pushing Lovell behind a wall and covering her body with his own.

The explosion was deafening. John felt the heat of it against his cheek; along his back through the material of the coat. Debris rained down behind them, hitting the deck with full force. John watched the helicopters carefully. One of them took some shrapnel along the tail but the other was left undamaged.

'Odyssey, this is Mitchell.'

John breathed out and turned his head to watch Mitchell turn the 302 back around.

'Can you read me?' Mitchell continued.

'This is Colonel Morrow…'

'Mitchell!' Rodney cut through Morrow's reply. 'Where's…'

'I'm here, Rodney.' John tapped his earpiece to answer, easing back from Lovell and helping her into a crouching position. 'We need a beam out.'

'Uh, we're not quite there in fixing the beaming technology.' Rodney said quickly. 'Do you have another option?'

'Mitchell's in a 302 with Amy.' John replied. 'I have other transportation.'

'I'll cover you.' Mitchell said, interrupting them.

'You need to get back to the ship before the Goa'uld in your back seat wakes up.' John shot back. 'Go. We'll be fine.'

'John…'

'Not arguing about it, Mitchell. Go.' John signalled to Lovell, did a quick check of the area and they both ran for the undamaged helicopter.

John could hear his breathing, harsh and loud; he could feel every sharp breath in the pull of his muscles; the deck jarred his legs with every step. The patter of gunfire in front of them had them lurching to the side. John tapped his earpiece again as he dived to the floor as another stream of shots hit too close.

'Rodney! I need that beaming technology now!'

'I can't perform miracles!' Rodney replied.

Lovell grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. He turned for the damaged chopper. It would be fine; he'd flown with worse damage. He yanked the door open.

A shot rang out and slapped into his shoulder.

He jerked violently.

'No!' Lovell's body covered his and she returned fire. Her body shuddered as it took shot after shot and she slumped to the ground. The gunman was dead; hit by Lovell's zat fire. John stooped to help Lovell, ignoring the pain that shot through him.

'Go!' Lovell said weakly. 'Go. Tell Stanley…' her voice trailed off and the light went out of her eyes.

He felt for a pulse. There was none. He closed his eyes briefly against the guilt that flooded through him. He'd promised her sanctuary and he'd failed to keep his promise. He stepped back and threw himself into the helicopter, snapping the door shut behind him.

The rotors started up; the engine engaged. He shuck off the coat, strapped in and slipped on the headset, removing the earpiece. He reached for the cyclic and the stick. His shoulder protested the movement and he glanced down to see the widening spread of blood on the flight suit under his coat.

John gritted his teeth and took to the air. He could see the 302 finally whirling around and shooting upwards towards the Odyssey; towards safety. Mitchell was safe; Amy was safe. John only had to stay airborne long enough to survive; for Rodney to beam him home…


	26. Chapter 26

Cam cursed under his breath as John ordered him gone but he waited anyway until he could see the helicopter taking off. He knew the other man had a point; it wasn't Amy in the back seat, it was a Goa'uld who wouldn't stay stunned for long. If they woke up, they could easily kill Cam even if the back controls were disabled. He swung the 302 around and made for the atmosphere.

'Odyssey, Mitchell. My ETA is five minutes.'

'Mitchell, Morrow. The bay doors will be open for you.' Morrow sounded grudging as though allowing Cam on board was a privilege he was unwilling to grant. The man was an idiot, Cam thought tiredly. Maybe he'd been good out in Iraq but Morrow lacked the flexibility and adaptability required for the Stargate programme. But on the Odyssey Morrow had seniority, Cam reminded himself. He couldn't allow Morrow to get to him; there was still John to recover.

He cleared Earth's atmosphere and made for the Odyssey. He wished he had time to enjoy the flight but he was only too aware that he needed Amy secured.

'Crap.' John's voice sounded over the headset.

'What?' Rodney asked the question before Cam could.

'They've sent the other helicopter after me.' John said shortly.

'I'm coming back.' Cam said immediately.

'I can take of it.' John said confidently. And he could, Cam told himself. John was an excellent pilot; good instincts. He'd be OK.

He had to be OK.

'We can target it.' Rodney said abruptly. 'With a drone and…'

'We do not have authorisation.' Morrow stated over him.

'You…' Rodney's protest was cut off by John.

'It's OK, Rodney. I've got this.' John sounded curt but Cam figured he was busy flying, weaving across the ocean and the ice to get away from the pursuing helicopter.

Cam spied the open bay door of the Odyssey and made for it with alacrity. He had to get up onto the Odyssey bridge. Maybe he could convince Morrow in person to assist John more directly. He slowed the 302 as it entered the bay, manoeuvred it slowly down and brought it to a halt. He took off his headset, rooted around in his pocket and put his earpiece back in, changing the channel again to pick up on the communications.

'Sheppard, you still there?' Cam asked, unfastening the straps and opening the cover. He could see Teal'c running toward him; Daniel and Vala on his heels. A crowd of engineers and 302 pilots were beginning to fill the bay.

'I'm a little busy right now, Mitchell.' John replied tersely.

'Right. I'm on the Odyssey.' Cam informed him. He waited for the ladder and stepped out before reaching into the back seat to lift Amy free.

Teal'c was suddenly beside him helping and Cam let him take over. He was tired; his entire body ached and his knees were on fire. Daniel reached out to steady him as Cam stumbled down the stairs.

'Amy needs to be secured. She's a Goa'uld.' Cam told the approaching SFs as he reached safe ground.

Teal'c nodded and handed Amy over to the medical team.

The doctor nodded. 'I'll take her to the infirmary and arrange for her to be placed in restraints.'

'Thanks.'

He'd look in on her later; apologise. Wait with her for the Tok'ra to free her. It was the least he could do, Cam thought wearily. But first…the bridge and John.

'It is good to have you back, Colonel Mitchell.' Teal'c said, his eyes warming with affection as Vala hugged Cam hard.

'Ow.' Cam said immediately, hugging her back. 'I'm a little beaten up.'

Daniel pulled Vala away and gave Mitchell a gentler hug. 'It's good to see you in one piece.'

Cam patted one of Teal'c's large biceps. 'It's good to be back. But…'

'Let's get back to the bridge,' agreed Daniel.

Cam set his teeth and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The others slowed to accommodate his slow pace.

Teal'c frowned heavily. 'Perhaps we should take you to the infirmary.'

'No,' Cam argued, 'not while John's out there.' He tapped his earpiece again. 'Sheppard.'

'Still here. The other helicopter decided to go for a swim.' There was a breathless quality to John's voice; one that told Cam John was in pain.

'What's your situation?' Cam asked.

There was a pause and Cam knew – _he knew_ – that something was wrong and John was considering how to tell them.

'My chopper's damaged. The tail is unbalanced; I took some fire in the exchange with the other chopper and I'm leaking fuel. I'm over land but this part of the ice isn't safe to put down on; I could easily end up falling through into a crevasse.' John reported briskly. 'I could really do with that beam out.'

'We're working on it.' Rodney said.

There was a strange double feed as Cam walked onto the bridge and heard Rodney speak both through the ear piece and in person. Rodney was working furiously on the console at the side of the bridge; Teyla and Ronon hovered beside him anxiously. Cam tapped the earpiece channel closed, realising John was being piped through the main audio system on the bridge. He nodded an acknowledgement to Morrow sat in the command chair. Morrow looked back at him sourly.

'Work faster.' John said and gave a gasp.

'Sheppard?' Cam asked worriedly.

Another long silence.

'I may have gotten shot on the way out.' John finally admitted.

Rodney stilled for a moment before he started working again. He darted a look toward Cam. Teyla moved forward but Rodney shrugged her off, unwilling to be comforted or soothed.

Cam's jaw clenched uneasily. 'How bad?'

'Shoulder.' John said. 'It's…I might have lost some blood.'

Cam leaned against the pilot's chair, knowing Marks wouldn't mind. 'Just keep her in the air, John.' He signalled to the technician to cut audio their side. 'McKay, how long?'

Rodney looked up at him frantically. 'I…too long. There's too much to do and…' he looked defeated but he continued working anyway. 'Another twenty minutes? Maybe half an hour?'

'We don't have that.' Cam said tightly. ' _He_ doesn't have that.'

'Don't you think I don't know that?' Rodney yelled back. He was panicked; red faced, his short thinning hair wild about head, and still he continued to work on fixing the beaming technology.

Teyla's eyes met Cam's across the bridge; hers accusing. 'Rodney is doing his best.'

Ronon nodded.

Cam grimaced as his knees protested at him standing; he thought desperately trying to find another solution. It came to him in a flash of memory; Sam in a space suit and the Odyssey going to get her. 'We can take the Odyssey down and pick him up.'

'Yes!' Rodney said delighted, snapping his fingers loudly. 'We…'

'No.' Morrow stood up. 'It's out of the question, Colonel Mitchell.'

Cam stared at him in shock. 'What do you mean it's out of the question?'

Daniel's hand rested on his shoulder; it was a warning to be careful coupled with a nudge of support.

'I mean that it's against my standing orders. The Odyssey is in patrol of Earth's atmosphere; we are not cleared to go into Earth's atmosphere especially when we're not cloaked and could reveal ourselves to the public.'

'It's Antarctica?' Rodney argued. 'Who's going to notice? The penguins?'

'I do not have orders to assist in this rescue.' Morrow thundered out.

'Then let's call Sam and get her to clear it.' Cam said angrily.

'Uh, not to bother you guys or anything but what's happening up there?' John's voice stopped Morrow from immediately answering.

Morrow folded his arms. 'I take my orders from O'Neill or Vidrine.'

Cam could have hit him. 'Get O'Neill.' He ordered the tech at the comms position.

'Belay that order!' Morrow blustered. 'This is my ship and I will not have you coming in and taking over!'

'One of our people is down there and needs our help!' Cam snapped back. 'We are wasting time arguing about this; we need to get him back safely now!'

'Uh, guys? Rodney? Mitchell? Anyone there?' John sounded pained.

'If you can't accept my authority, you can leave my bridge.' Morrow said stonily.

Cam glowered at him before shooting a quick look around his team. Teal'c's nod was imperceptible; Vala smiled back at him; Daniel's nose wrinkled in agreement. A second later they all moved in perfect synchronicity.

Cam brought out the zat he had placed in the pocket of the oversize coat he still wore; Teal'c's was out of his holster in an instant as were the zats of Vala and Daniel. Ronon didn't hesitate to follow their example.

Cam shot Morrow before the other Colonel could do anything more than look horrified at them; he fell back into his seat, unconscious. Ronon and the rest of SG1 turned the weapons on the SFs by the door and covered the Odyssey personnel on the bridge.

'Do we need to zat anyone else?' Cam asked mildly. He didn't think so from the relieved and grateful expressions; most of the personnel were old timers who knew the first law of the programme; don't leave anyone behind.

There were numerous shakes of heads. Rodney looked at him approvingly.

'OK, so we're going to just keep the zats on everybody.' Daniel said in a conversational tone. 'That way you can all honestly say you were coerced. Is that OK with everyone?'

'Uh, guys?' John interrupted the rush of nods.

Cam gestured at the comms technician who smiled and connected them. 'Sorry, Sheppard. We had a small glitch.' He nudged Marks out of his seat and shook his head when Marks made to protest.

Marks sidled out and Cam slipped into the pilot's chair. 'We're coming to get you in the Odyssey. The bay doors will be open for you; you can fly in.'

'OK.' John said, relief evident in the single word. 'Good plan.'

'We're still not at plan F, Sheppard.' Cam joked, trying to lighten the tension as he tapped in the commands to send the Odyssey on a path to intercept John.

'How are you feeling, John?' Teyla asked.

'I'm fine.' John answered immediately. 'Just…you know; hurry.'

'We're on our way.' Rodney said. He was continuing to work on the beaming technology, Cam realised. Just in case…

'Keep talking to me, OK?' John asked, his voice echoing on the bridge. 'You guys scared me there for a minute.'

'Actually, you should keep talking to us.' Rodney argued. 'That way we know you haven't plunged to your death.'

'Thanks for the visual, Rodney, and what do you want me to talk about?'

That was a leading question, Cam thought with amusement. 'How about a story?' He suggested instead.

'A story?' John questioned him incredulously. 'Like for our competition story?'

'Yeah,' Cam replied, changing the angle of descent, 'I told you one about Antarctica so you can tell me one.'

'That's…' John's voice gave away on a gasp.

'Sheppard! John!' Rodney called out to him worriedly.

'It's fine. Just…a twinge really.' John shrugged off their concern. 'So, my Antarctica story I guess starts with turning up for work and being told I'm transporting important cargo out to the new very secret science base.' He paused for a moment and they heard the pained breaths he took.

'Important cargo?' Daniel stepped in to fill the silence. 'Wasn't your cargo Jack?'

'It was the General.' John agreed. 'He said he didn't like Antarctica.'

'It's not his favourite continent.' Daniel agreed cheerfully.

'So, we're flying along to this secret base and out of nowhere this drone appears. Only I don't know it's a drone because I've never seen one up close before.'

'Carson.' Rodney interjected. 'He couldn't control it.'

'And it's got a lock on us.' John continued. 'I'm…' he stopped and gasped again, 'I'm trying to fly and General O'Neill is giving me instructions and I'm ignoring them because, well…'

'That's you all over.' Rodney snarked.

'Do you want to tell the story?' John shot back.

'No, no. You tell it.' Rodney backed off.

Cam hid his smile.

'Where was I?' John asked.

'Dodging the drone.' Cam supplied helpfully. He checked the sensor readings. John was still too far out. They needed more speed.

'So, I'm weaving all over the sky and finally we manage to get rid of it to land and it still comes for us! It lands nearby and I'm thinking, what the hell is that?'

John gave a strangled cry. He was obviously trying to hide that he was in severe pain. Cam saw Teyla reach out for Ronon who put his free hand on her shoulder. Teyla clasped the hand tightly.

'Anyway, the General is grateful so he allows me into the top secret hush-hush base and tells me not to touch anything.' John continued after a long moment of silence. 'I'm curious and I meet Carson who apologises for almost shooting me out of the sky.' He cleared his throat. 'And he takes me to the chair.'

Cam adjusted his heading. 'The Ancient chair?'

'Yeah, and he's explaining about Ancient tech and how it all links to the gene and I go to sit in the chair and he goes to stop me but I say what's the likelihood that I have the gene and then I'm in the chair and…God,' John sighed heavily, 'it was the most incredible thing.'

Most of the bridge had stopped to listen, Cam realised. They were all waiting for John to continue the story.

'It's like nothing you've ever experienced,' John continued, 'your whole body is buzzing with power and there's this connection in your head and you're flying without flying but there's this sense of…peace like…'

'Sitting on top of a Ferris wheel looking out at the world.' Rodney suggested quietly.

'Yeah, exactly like that.' John's voice had softened. 'So, I'm sat in the chair and I'm OK with the chair because she and I are getting along great because it's like she's in my head asking me what I want and I'm telling her I have no idea but please don't blow anything up…and I'm thinking I'm going to be in trouble because O'Neill specifically told me not to touch anything and here I am…majorly touching something.'

A few giggles, chuckles and snorts sounded around the bridge.

Cam could see the ice ahead. They were almost there.

'And everyone comes running up including this very irate, pissed off looking scientist in a huge orange sweater and he asks me…' John's voice cut out again on a pained gasp.

'I ask you to think about where you are in the solar system and you do and…I was so jealous.' Rodney supplied. His anxious gaze met Cam's.

'This is when you met.' Teyla realised.

'Yeah,' John said with a light laugh, 'my first meeting with Rodney.' He stopped again with another choked gasp.

'Hold on, Sheppard.' Cam ordered him. 'We're almost there.'

'It's just…' John's voice broke. 'I'm so goddamned tired, Mitchell.'

Cam's heart lurched in his chest at the admission because he knew it wasn't just an admission about that moment; it was an admission about John's entire state of being.

'You have to hold on.' Cam instructed him. 'I've got you in sight. We'll be in there in a minute.'

'I'm…Lovell didn't make it; she took a bullet for me, actually more than one. You have to tell Stanley…'

'You can tell him yourself.' Cam said briskly, trying to tamp down on the concern that was bubbling up. John sounded at the very end of his rope; like everything he had to keep himself going was gone.

'And you need…to tell Dave…'

Rodney's eyes flew to Cam's again in alarm.

'No!' Cam snapped, punching in the commands to clear the bay and open the doors ready to receive the helicopter they were moving over. 'You are not giving up, Sheppard. We're right here. You just have to come inside.'

'You're here.' John sounded disbelieving. 'You're not cloaked.'

'Can't pick you up if we're cloaked.' Cam said mildly.

John's team were already moving; heading out of the bridge to the 302 bay. Cam held the Odyssey steady and monitored John's approach.

'You might want to clear the bay.' John suggested. 'This isn't going to be one of my better landings.'

'On it.' Cam looked over to the comms tech who was already relaying the order. He noted the moment when the helicopter cleared the bay doors.

'I'm down.' John said.

'Welcome back.' Cam replied. 'I'll be there in a minute.'

The comms tech looked back at him. 'I've got a medic team on the way.'

Cam nodded gratefully. Marks tapped his shoulder. 'I can take over from here, Colonel.'

'Yes, you can.' Cam glanced at Morrow's slumped form. 'You're in charge, Marks.'

'Yes, sir.' Marks smiled as they exchanged seats. 'I trust you and the rest of SG1 will find your way to the infirmary? Colonel Morrow is probably going to want you in the brig.'

Cam winced and Marks took pity on him.

'I'll call Colonel Carter.'

Cam patted his shoulder. 'Good man.' He limped off the bridge, Teal'c falling in beside him, Vala and Daniel behind.

'How much trouble do you think we're in?' Cam asked idly as they made their way back to the 302 bay.

'Sam will sort it out.' Daniel said dismissing Cam's worry with a brisk hand wave.

Teal'c smiled. 'Indeed.'

OK, Cam thought; that meant they were in serious trouble.

They walked through the doors of the bay and pushed past a number of people stood around hovering. Cam got annoyed quickly and was pleased when Teal'c cleared the way. John was being carried out of the helicopter by Ronon and placed on a waiting gurney. The medics were already surrounding him. Cam hobbled over anyway, trying to hurry despite the pain.

Rodney was already at his friend's side. 'Hey.'

'They shot up my plane, Rodney!' John said.

'I'll fix it.' Rodney promised, his hand closing over John's forearm.

Cam could see John as he got closer; John's skin was pale and clammy. There was a horrendous patch of red on his flight suit that the medics were peeling back.

'Sheppard.' Cam said, softly drawing John's attention away from his team.

'Mitchell.' John's pain-glazed eyes met his. 'Thanks for the save.'

'Same back.' Cam said seriously.

The doctor looked up from his cursory examination and yelled for the medics to move. There was no way that Cam could keep up as the gurney was pushed forward at a run. He sighed with frustration.

Vala looped her arm around his. 'He'll be fine.'

'Yeah.' Cam felt Daniel move to stand beside him on his other side; Teal'c's steady presence behind him. John would be fine…and so would Cam.


	27. Chapter 27

**Epilogue: Back on the Ground**

Cam tried not to fidget as Landry flipped the folder closed and looked at him.

'You've made your decision then?' Landry asked.

Cam nodded. 'I have.' He stilled the urge to squirm in his seat like a schoolboy in front of a principal. There had been another serious discussion with Carolyn and his specialist following his latest trip to the infirmary. Cam had agreed to the surgery and hence his meeting with a newly returned General to discuss the arrangements.

Landry nodded. 'I'll accept both your request for someone to be assigned temporarily and your recommendation for your replacement.' He lowered his busy eyebrows. 'Have you discussed this with Sheppard?'

'Yes, he's in agreement.' Cam said firmly. He and John had traded phone calls in the days since their vacation had come to a sudden end. They'd ended up in the infirmary of the SGC for a day together before John had been transferred back to Atlantis and Cam had gone to the Academy hospital.

John had suggested Lorne as a candidate for the hopefully temporary position of SG1 leader while Cam was unavailable. Cam had agreed. He liked Lorne well enough and Lorne was a veteran of the programme; very well able to deal with the weirdness of it.

Unlike Morrow. The Odyssey commander had been quietly transferred back to regular forces. Cam had received a reprimand for stunning Morrow but nothing more than that. He was lucky; he could have been court martialed for assault. His jaw set. It would have been worth it, Cam thought decisively. More than worth it.

Landry frowned at him. 'You and Sheppard seem to have it all worked out.'

'I like to think we work well together.' Cam replied mildly, trying not to react to the hint of disapproval in Landry's tone when he spoke John's name.

'He earned you a reprimand.' Landry pointed out dryly.

Cam held his tongue that it was a badge of honour. Instead, he shifted to meet Landry's gaze unapologetically. 'Sheppard had nothing to do with my decision to take control of the Odyssey. I would have done it for anyone.' That Morrow was an idiot went without saying.

Landry harrumphed. He sat back and regarded Cam with the same mix of paternal affection and mentoring CO that he always did. 'Some might say he's a less than positive influence.'

'Only those who don't know him well.' Cam said firmly. His words were a warning and Landry nodded in acknowledgement that he was treading too close to something Cam believed was none of his business. 'He's a good man and a good friend.'

'Well, I can't argue with that.' Landry said. He leaned forward suddenly and tapped the folder. 'I take it he had something to do with this beyond suggesting Lorne?'

'He helped me make the decision.' Cam allowed. John had listened to him weigh up the pros and cons for days.

'Good.' Landry's eyes gleamed. 'There may be hope for him yet.' He waved at Cam. 'I'll get the paperwork processed.'

'Thank you, sir.' Cam replied, waiting for the dismissal.

Landry hesitated. 'About what happened with Allia…'

Cam struggled to keep the anger from flashing in his eyes but he thought he'd been successful when Landry remained apologetic.

'Initially, the decision not to inform you was at her request and later, when she confessed that she was Allia's daughter and not her, it was done to protect you since your name was the one that had leaked out.' Landry sighed. 'I realise that it may not seem effective given what happened.'

'I'm not sure it would have made a difference either way, sir.' Cam murmured, letting his CO off the hook. And it was the truth. Cam figured that the Alliance would have come after him either way. Would it have been better to have been forewarned? Cam couldn't say. He wasn't about to suggest that they go back and change time to find out.

Landry nodded slowly. 'How's Miss Vandenburg?'

'She's doing well.' Cam said. Amy had been freed of the Goa'uld by the Tok'ra but she was struggling to come to terms with events. She had asked Cam to give her some space, telling him she didn't blame him but that he was too much of a reminder of what she had been through. She wanted to move on and he couldn't stand in her way. He mourned the loss of their friendship but he believed that ultimately he'd made the right decision not to marry her. He loved Amy but not enough; he'd used her just as much as the Alliance in the end and that was something he was still working on forgiving himself for.

Landry seemed about to say something else – impart some fatherly wisdom perhaps – but instead he relented and dismissed Cam briskly.

Cam made his way through the mountain to Daniel's office. He could hear the voices of his team drifting down the corridor, feminine laughter spilling out into the corridor. His spirits lightened a little and helped the nerves churning in his belly. He straightened his shoulders and went in.

They all turned to greet him.

His eyes immediately went to Sam, dressed in a flight suit wearing the patches of The General Hammond. Mitchell's eyes warmed. She deserved the ship; hell, she'd designed it.

'Hey, congratulations!' He said, nudging her elbow and almost upsetting the half-full mug of coffee in her hand.

Sam beamed at him while surreptitiously directing him to sit on the stool next to her. 'I'm happy I've finally taken command of her.'

'Shouldn't you be up there?' Cam asked, wondering why she was on the ground when the Hammond was in orbit.

'I had to handover some stuff to Bill,' Sam explained, gesturing with her coffee, 'and I wanted to catch up with you guys. I haven't seen you…'

'Since yesterday.' Daniel interjected quietly. He hid his face in his own mug of coffee when Sam shot him a dirty look.

'She has been missed.' Teal'c remonstrated gently, bowing his head at Sam.

Vala nodded enthusiastically. 'Very.' She suddenly hugged Sam, placing her head on Sam's shoulder and holding on tightly. 'Don't leave me again with the boys!' She proclaimed dramatically.

Sam patted her back but her eyes met Cam's over Vala's head and Cam wasn't surprised when she rolled them at him. 'Sorry, Vala, but I think duty is going to call me any minute.'

'You mean Jack.' Daniel said slyly.

'Someone cracked the ninth chevron game last night.' Sam grinned at Daniel's outrage.

'Why didn't Nick call me?' Daniel asked grumpily.

'You know Rush.' Sam shrugged. 'He got Jack out of bed this morning with the news. They've gone to convince the kid to go with them and Senator Armstrong for a demonstration.' She held up a hand before Daniel could say anything more. 'If you want to go you'll have to badger Landry.'

Cam hid a smile at her glee.

Daniel subsided.

'Actually, I'm glad you're all here.' Cam placed his clasped hands on the bench in front of him and regarded them all nervously. 'I have something to tell you…'

They heard him out; the news about his physical condition, the surgery, how it all got tangled up with Amy…and his decision to have the surgery and the temporary assignment of Lorne as team leader.

'Lorne's a good choice.' Sam said approvingly. 'At least he seemed able to handle it in the other reality I visited.'

Cam had forgotten that. He smiled. 'Well, it's good to know I'm leaving the team in capable hands.' He tried to be blasé but as Daniel's eyes narrowed, Cam knew he hadn't been as successful as he had wanted.

'Are you nervous about the surgery?' Vala asked bluntly, proving that Cam hadn't been able to shake the anxiety out of his voice. She moved; looping her arm around his and squeezing comfortingly. 'Because you know Samantha and I will be doing everything we can to help you.'

Sam nodded her agreement.

He felt warmed by that; knowing they'd both help him heal with the Goa'uld hand device. It meant that potentially his recovery would be in weeks rather than months. 'Thanks, Vala.'

'We will all assist you in your recovery, Colonel Mitchell,' Teal'c added as Sam slipped away to discreetly talk on her earpiece with her ship, 'in whatever way we can.'

Cam nodded, a lump in his throat making it difficult for him to reply.

Daniel's gaze met his across the small office that was so filled with Daniel, with the souvenirs of SG1 in all its formations. 'We're not going anywhere, Mitchell.'

And there it was the reassurance he'd been after; that they would wait for him to come back. That he wouldn't have a repeat of the last time when he'd turned up to join them and found they had scattered to pursue other things and left him alone.

'Actually, I am going somewhere.' Sam cut in. She placed her mug down and sighed. 'They just beamed the kid up. I have to go prepare for launch.' She slipped her arms around Cam as Vala moved back. 'I'll call you when I get back.' She stepped back again before Cam could return the hug and disappeared in a flash of white.

Cam shook his head and smiled.

'What?' Vala asked seeing his expression.

'Just something Sheppard said.' Cam explained. He waved at where Sam had disappeared. 'He thinks no-one really leaves SG1.'

Daniel and Teal'c exchanged a shared look of history and affection before they turned the same gaze on Cam and Vala. 'He was right.'

'We will always be SG1.' Teal'c concurred.

Cam felt his shoulders loosen; the tension leaving them completely. He grinned back at his team. 'So, what are you guys up to anyway?'

Daniel's face immediately brightened as Vala shot Cam a look that said 'you had to say that?' and Teal'c smiled with his eyes as the archaeologist launched into an explanation of something to do with Mayan artefacts…

Cam didn't mind. He settled back to enjoy the show as Daniel's arms started waving and gesturing. Vala slipped her arm through his again and he gave her a grateful smile; he really did love his team.

o-O-o

The lights of Atlantis shone brightly behind him and the lights of the bay of San Francisco shone just as brightly in front. John gazed out on the dark ripples of water. It was weird to think that no-one on land could see the city cloaked as she was. He leaned back, his legs dangling over the pier and turned his attention to the night sky. He was pleased that his shoulder had healed enough to bear his weight again. It had been a through and through; some muscle damage Vala had healed once he'd been stabilised by the doctors.

He was nicely buzzed. There was enough alcohol fizzing through his system to leave him relaxed and slightly floating; not enough that he was completely incoherent and incapable of moving. It was a good place to be.

Rodney shifted beside him. The scientist was lying flat on his back, a bottle of beer balanced on his belly.

They'd made an evening of it; dinner with Teyla and Ronon followed by sitting out on the pier, the two of them drinking and exchanging Dad stories. There was a competitive edge to the stories even if there was nothing to play for but that's how his friendship worked with Rodney and he wasn't about to change it. He'd confided about his mother's death and had the comfort of Rodney being as outraged as Mitchell had been when John had told him his Dad had actually said it had been John's fault. He was beginning to believe that it might not have been…that maybe he had just been a scared eleven year old kid who had done the best he could.

Just as he had been a scared adult doing the best he could for the last five years, John mused, taking a deep breath of air. Maybe if he could start to forgive himself for his Mom, he could start to forgive himself for the other losses.

It was a start.

Rodney sighed loudly; the noise travelling through the quiet. John gazed back at him questioningly.

'I was just thinking about the story you told you know when you were in the helicopter and we were on the Odyssey coming to save you.' Rodney said, turning to look at him. His face was creased with sadness. 'I was just thinking that there's only you and me left now who get that moment when you sat in the chair and plucked that image of the solar system out of the database with your mind. Elizabeth's gone and Carson. I mean, I know our Carson now has the memories of it but he wasn't actually the one who was there, who let the drone almost kill you.'

'I know.' John said quietly, letting his own sadness fill him up. He returned his gaze to the night sky.

'Did you really think I was irate and pissed off?' Rodney asked.

'Mostly, I thought orange.' John returned.

Rodney kicked out with his leg, brushing John's rather than landing a severe blow.

'It was cold! And visible! You know if I'd gotten lost.' Rodney said defensively.

Maybe he could ask Rodney to wear orange all the time, John mused; then John wouldn't lose him like he'd lost the others.

As though Rodney had read his mind, he suddenly began talking again. 'I expect you to be telling that story to my children one day but less of the irate and pissed off and…'

'Orange?' quipped John.

'And orange,' agreed Rodney. His brow creased in consternation. 'Are we drunk?'

'Drunk enough.' John declared. He followed Rodney's example and laid back. He folded his hands over his stomach.

'Oh, hey,' Rodney flapped a hand at him, 'how did the board meeting go earlier?'

John grimaced. He'd attended the board meeting of Sheppard International, keeping his promise to his brother. He could picture the stuffy board room with its line of wide windows on one side, and modern art hanging off the walls on the other; the neat table in the centre with its row of water glasses and folders. And the men and women around it; an army of business suits, laptops and Blackberrys that had made him shudder.

'It was fine.' John said, belatedly answering Rodney's question. 'The guy who tried to oppose Dave's proposal got his numbers wrong.'

Something John had pointed out. Didicott – and it had been all John could do not to snigger at the name – had blustered and said John was wrong until Dave had stood up for him, pointing out that John had a Masters in Applied Mathematics and made instantaneous advanced calculations in his head as a matter of course in flying a fighter jet. John had been touched by the support and the knowledge that Dave apparently knew he was smarter than he sometimes wanted to appear. Didicott had been soundly trounced; Dave's position was secure.

'You going to spend more time with Dave while we're on Earth?' Rodney asked a little tentatively.

'Maybe.' John murmured. He and Dave had spoken about a family trip out to Clancyville. Dave wanted to show his kids the ranch and make it a tradition for them as it had been a tradition for him and John. John could get behind that. He'd finally met Dave's kids and his wife and he liked Dave's family. His family. 'You going to see Jeannie?'

'She invited me.' Rodney said grumpily.

So that was a yes, John thought amused.

'She wants me to bring Jennifer.' Rodney said with a touch of horror in his voice. 'I mean, I know I love Jennifer but I don't think we're quite ready to be, you know, doing the whole family thing and…sorry; you don't need to hear this.'

'Hey.' John nudged him. 'You want to talk about it; go ahead and talk about it.'

Rodney looked over at him. 'I feel bad though because you don't have anyone.' His eyes widened in shock as though he hadn't meant to be that honest. 'Not that you have to have anyone; being single is a perfectly valid choice and it's not like you couldn't get someone if you wanted someone which – I mean, do you? Because they're a couple of new scientists who are exactly your type – well, not Ascended but you know willowy brunettes who have that whole…'

John began laughing and Rodney stopped babbling.

'Crap.' Rodney muttered. 'I said I wasn't going to be that type of friend.' He motioned with his bottle. 'You know the one that hooks up and tries to match make everyone else.'

'You're not that type of friend.' John assured him. He reached over and patted Rodney's shoulder. 'And I'm OK.'

'Really?' asked Rodney seriously.

John met Rodney's concerned gaze and smiled. 'Really.'

The conversation on the pier stayed with John through the next couple of days as did the feeling that he truly was OK. He was sleeping better; eating more. He'd lost the bone deep sense of exhaustion that had dogged him before.

He headed out to the company airfield near Colorado and waited for Mitchell outside the hangar. His friend pulled up in a classic car that had John drooling a little and he admired it while they greeted each other.

Mitchell regarded him curiously. 'OK, so you tempted me here with the words you had some kind of big surprise?'

John grinned at him. He gestured for Mitchell to follow him inside the hangar.

Mitchell's mouth obligingly fell open at the sight of the brand new Cessna. 'Wow.'

'Dave bought her for me.' John said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back on them. 'He said it was a get well present.'

'You think he'll buy me one after my surgery?' Mitchell asked teasingly.

John laughed. 'You never know.' He started to walk towards his newest possession. 'Come on.'

Mitchell followed him eagerly. 'OK, so we're going flying, right? You didn't drag me all the way here just to show me how beautiful she is. Oh,' he pointed at John, 'what are you calling her?'

John stopped and turned to Mitchell. 'I thought I'd call her Gina.'

After Lovell who'd saved both their lives.

John had kept his promise there too; he'd gone to Washington and met with Stanley who had been pleased at the impact his friendship had had on Gina although he'd been upset about her death.

Mitchell nodded. 'Gina. I can agree to that.'

John smiled in amusement. 'So I think I won our last story competition; my Antarctica story definitely beat yours.'

'What?' Mitchell mock-glared at him. 'I don't think so. I almost died!'

'I met Rodney.' John shot back as they started walking again.

'OK, but I almost died!' Mitchell argued.

John smiled and let Mitchell continue to argue as they set about the technical check. John glanced back at the blue sky and his heart leaped happily.

They'd be up there soon; flying.

Free as birds.

It was all he had ever wanted.

'Hey, Sheppard!' Mitchell yanked his attention back to the plane. 'Are we flying or what?'

His blue eyes shone with wry knowledge, as though he knew what John had been thinking. He probably did, John realised with amusement.

'Yeah,' John said joyfully, 'we're flying.'

fin.


End file.
